


The Brightest Witch

by Neptune20



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bondage, Dom Harry, Dom/sub, Dominance, Edging, F/F, F/M, Heavy BDSM, Master/Slave, Multi, Orgasm Control, Parent/Child Incest, Sexual Slavery, Sub Hermione Granger, Watersports
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-06-12 09:00:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 90,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15336417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neptune20/pseuds/Neptune20
Summary: Hermione has built the reputation of being the brightest witch of her age by the end of third year, and this had opened many opportunities for her. Many choices. But what if she only wants to make one choice... for someone else to make those choices for her?Growing up in a very different family than most, Hermione decides that it is time she asked for what she actually wants.Note: This story is going to very deeply explore the philosophy behind submission and dominance. If you have problems with submission and dominance philosophically, this story might actually be helpful and explain some things that you don't understand.It takes a very realistic approach to the philosophy of D/s that I've found to be extremely rare in fanfiction, or in writing in general to be honest.This is not a story of all the random kinks I enjoy, and the ones that are included serve a purpose to the characters and the story.





	1. I'm Ready

**Author’s Note:** A note about the content and topic of this story:  
  
Yeah, many aspects of this fic are very realistic and believable, but Hermione’s family isn’t really one of them. There isn’t any realistic situation I can imagine where a _parent_ engaging in _bondage or D/s_ with their _child_ could be healthy like it is portrayed here. I think that would pretty much always be abusive, if for no other reason than a child in that situation no matter how mature can’t really have informed consent. Even if you have no moral problem with incest itself, a guardian engaging in sexual D/s with their dependent pretty much is always going to be a very bad thing for the teenager.  
  
So then, why did I structure the story this way if I put so much care into making the other parts so realistic and true to life?  
  
First, it’s a matter of convenience. Of all the characters that are established to exist in Harry Potter but also blank enough for me to give this kind of lifestyle backstory, Hermione’s parents are by far the most conveniently placed to take action and cause change immediately without me having to go through several chapters connecting my OC’s with Hermione and Harry. It’s also convenient that I can lean on some of the shared emotional history that would obviously exist between Hermione and them, as well as the inherent trust that would provide to Harry.  
  
Second, it’s a shortcut. A real D/s relationship generally takes time and effort to build the kind of trust that is really necessary for it. Not always, but for what I’m trying to do here certainly. There are several degrees of that which I don’t have to explicitly justify because I made the character’s Hermione’s parents.  
  
Third, it allows me to keep the characters purely nurturing even when engaging in extremely sexual activities with Harry and Hermione. Like I said, that kind of ‘healthy’ relationship isn’t really true to life in a sense, but making a relationship this sexual between two people be based so completely in nurture instead of attraction would be very difficult to accept for most readers.  
  
So while I think many aspects of this story are very realistic, I want to make sure everyone understands that this story should not be taken as an argument that doing this kind of thing with your children is okay. It would be abusive, criminal, and frankly heart-wrenching. We are only getting away with it here because this is a complete fantasy story about magic, and wizards, and so on; and because we all know that none of these are real people. Elizabeth and Michael, additionally, are not purely good people, they’re flawed and have failings like everyone.  
  
Elizabeth and Michael should not be taken as stand-ins for me, the author. While obviously a lot of things they talk about has to draw on things I know about from personal experience, they do say things and do things that I would disagree with.  
  
###  
  
Chapter 1  
I’m Ready  
  
###  
  
Hermione waved goodbye to her friends, leaving the platform for the summer with her parents. She knew that the fiasco with rescuing Sirius, and all the things surrounding this last year, meant she finally had to explain to her parents exactly what had been happening at school the last few years. She’d done a good job of keeping the events of her life at school from her parents, but that couldn’t continue. That’s not how good girls behaved.  
  
“Mum… dad…” she started as they got into the car.  
  
“Yes, sweetheart?” her father called from the front, looking into the mirror as he began to pull out of the parking lot.  
  
“I… you should punish me.” Hermione’s face began to blaze and she averted her gaze, but even so she could still feel the piercing eyes of her parents. A few seconds passed. “What we talked about, after first year and second year… I can’t wait any more.”  
  
“Sweetie,” her mom started slowly. “You know that’s not something we’ll let you decide until you’re 15. We’ve talked about this.”  
  
“Why do you think you should be punished?” her father asked.  
  
“I… I haven’t been a good girl,” Hermione said softly. “I haven’t told you about the things happening at school.”  
  
Another few moments of silence passed, and then her mother spoke again.  
  
“Well why don’t you tell us on the way home?”  
  
And so she did. Once she started recounting the tales of her experiences at school, and what had really been happening, she couldn’t slow herself down. It was like a dam bursting where once the process was started there was nothing that could stop it.  
  
Her parents listened in silence, only speaking up here and there to ask clarifying questions. By the time Hermione was finished, and they were approaching home, their faces looked uncertain and cloudy to the young witch. She’d hated the distance that these lies had caused between her and her parents, and even though she knew they would be furious, she was glad they’d told him.  
  
“I think…” Hermione’s mother, Elizabeth, started. She glanced at her husband Michael. “Sweetie, why don’t you take your things up to your room. Your father and I will discuss this.”  
  
Hermione’s head hung low as she mumbled an acknowledgment, and in a few seconds she had started inside the house with her things. Michael and Elizabeth sat in the front seats for a few seconds in quiet before Elizabeth finally spoke up.  
  
“What should we do Michael? You know that removing her from the school would devastate her.”  
  
“Yes,” Michael agreed, nodding slowly. “I’m more confused by her request. She wants us to punish her? I understand the feeling she’s expressing, and why, but a part of me… Elizabeth, should we have tried to convince her this wasn’t okay, this lifestyle?”  
  
Elizabeth looked at her husband as if he were stupid.  
  
“Michael, that girl is the most intelligent and mature 14-year-old girl that I’ve ever met in my life. Our daughter may have many flaws, but I don’t think any of them were caused by of our lifestyle.”  
  
“We agreed though that we wouldn’t allow her to choose this option until she was 15.”  
  
“That will happen in a few months while she’s at school.” Elizabeth paused for a moment. “Perhaps we shouldn’t be quite as rigid about age. Michael, it sounds like she really needs us.”  
  
“Yes,” Michael agreed. “But you know what this is like. If you make this kind of choice for the wrong reasons, it can be unhealthy. Plus, where will we find the right partners for her?”  
  
Elizabeth scoffed at the question.  
  
“Did you hear anything our daughter told us?” she asked. “Obviously it has to be someone she goes to school with, and it’s equally obvious that the boy she mentioned, Harry Potter, is in desperate need of control in his life.” She paused. “A part of me wonders if she brought it up to us knowing that it would benefit him. If she’s not just doing this for his benefit, to give him that kind of control.”  
  
“So then you think we should agree?” Michael asked cautiously.  
  
“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “I do.”  
  
A long silence passed between them, and Elizabeth decided to explain further.  
  
“Michael… you remember the conversation we had when Hermione first asked us for this, after first year?”  
  
“Of course I do,” Michael said with a wry grin. “Nothing will ever make me forget the intense discomfort of my twelve year old daughter trying to make a logical argument for being sexually dominated by her parents.” He looked at Elizabeth more seriously. “Why?”  
  
“Because, we agreed then that we’d reconsider if she was still having trouble with this after fourth year.” Elizabeth’s face turned to one of concern. “But did you hear what our daughter described about this last year? I know we said we’d make her wait one more year before reconsidering, but didn’t you catch the things she was saying about this year, and the stress she was under?” Elizabeth paused. “Michael, Hermione dropped a class! She didn’t even drop it, she _quit_ it! She just walked out and never went back!”  
  
Michael was silent but nodded slightly.  
  
“Or,” Elizabeth pressed on, “how about the incident with the broom that she was describing? After all the things we’ve heard about Harry, does it make sense to you that she pressed so hard on that? That she went behind his back on it? I can understand her concern and it was reasonable, but to do so without even really trying to convince him?” Elizabeth’s face hardened. “Michael, _this_ is what has been stressing her so much. All of these dangers, all of these things, protecting her friends, her boys. And that’s on top of the normal academic drive and will to succeed that our daughter has always had. No _wonder_ she’s brought this up every single summer.”  
  
“I do see your point,” Michael said, not sounding particularly happy about it. “But… it has to be you, Liz. I can’t… I can’t bring myself to engage in that directly with my own daughter. Do you think you’re up for it? Can you handle it?”  
  
“For our daughter?” Elizabeth replied. “For her, to protect her, to help her succeed… Michael… I will do _anything_.”  
  
###  
  
Hermione sat in her room, wondering what her parents would decide.  
  
_I asked to be punished,_ she gulped. But the longer she thought about it the more sure she was of her request.  
  
Hermione had not been raised in a normal house-hold. She knew this from a very young age. Her parents were somewhat affluent due to their professions, and they were also both highly intelligent people who loved learning and the search for knowledge. Those alone would separate her from many other families.  
  
But it wasn’t that which made her family so abnormal, it was the relationship her parents shared.  
  
Since before she’d been born her parents had engaged in a very particular kind of sexual dynamic, one where there was an exchange of control and power. They had never hidden it from her, but they’d also never exposed her to it directly. At least on purpose.  
  
Many would probably find it hard to believe that the righteous and independent Hermione has a mother who most of the time enjoyed being a slave to her husband. But that was the key, it had always been the key. Her mother enjoyed it. Her mother _chose_ it.  
  
Several of Hermione’s opinions and tendencies had been shaped by this experience. She felt a strong appeal for authority, as it reminded her of the family she’d observed as a child. She felt driven to accomplish as much as possible, to learn as much as possible, because her parents had always taught her that choice was at the core of everything, and the more choices she had the more freedom she enjoyed. She despised non-consensual bondage of any kind, because to her it was a perversion of what made submission so beautiful: that the submissive was choosing to submit.  
  
Without that choice… what did it matter?  
  
The more informed the choice, the more beautiful the submission was in her opinion. It’s one of the things that made her so proud of her parents. They were two of the most independent and intelligent people she knew, and the fact that they made the choices they did only emphasized that instead of taking away from it.  
  
And that was the choice she wanted to make now. She needed that freedom. The freedom of giving up control and submitting. Of making one choice on her own that removed the burden of making many other choices at all.  
  
Her parents had always answered her questions about the subject, and in many cases provided her with reading material to explore her questions in more depth. But they had always refused to let her observe them, saying that they were not going to allow her own emotional and mental development to be skewed in such a way. She had insisted once, several years ago, making a reasoned and impassioned argument, but they’d told her that she wouldn’t be allowed that choice until she was 15. They hadn’t pushed her towards this lifestyle, they’d just refused to lie to her about.  
  
But she knew she needed this. She needed someone to reign in her increasingly manic moods, and she needed to give up the burden of some of the choices she was being presented with.  
  
Many would probably think that growing up in such a family meant an early and constant exposure to the lewd and the sexual, but she’d actually never seen her parents in anything more revealing that rather modest swim wear. Again, on purpose.  
  
But she knew what she wanted, and what she needed. And she knew what Harry needed too. He needed this from her, a thing to control and to use, and it was just good fortune that she needed the other side of it just as badly.  
  
She was startled out of her thoughts as someone knocked on her door. It had to be her mother, the knocking was too gentle.  
  
“Come in,” she called out softly.  
  
Elizabeth walked into the room carrying a bag, closing the door softly behind her, and sat down next to Hermione.  
  
“You know what you’re asking for, right?” Elizabeth finally asked gently.  
  
Hermione considered the question. It was a fair one, but she’d had more than enough time and experiences to properly consider her decision.  
  
###  
  
Hermione had always, even from a very early age, observed some of the quirks in her parent’s relationship. Her mother seemed to always defer to her father’s decisions, and often looked down when he was explaining something to her. When Hermione had copied this behavior with her father around age six, Elizabeth and Michael had both explained to her that it was something some adults did with each other, but that Hermione should look at her parents when they were speaking so they knew she was paying attention.  
  
“How do you know mum is listening, dad?” the small girl had asked. “She looks down.”  
  
“Your mum always listens to me princess,” Michael had told her with a smile. “It’s something special mum and dad share.”  
  
Hermione hadn’t quite understood how it was different from what other parents shared until a few years later when she had stumbled upon a scene that clearly wasn’t intended for her. School had gotten out and Hermione had headed straight home, which was extremely unusual. Nearly every single day Hermione stayed after class to go through books in the library, or talk to a teacher. But this day the ten year old girl had been tormented for her buck-teeth and wild hair by three other girls in her class. There had been a substitute, which the three girls had taken as license to be as nasty as possible.  
  
Hermione had been worried that if she stayed after they might come and find her. She was already so isolated in school, really only seeking out the company of her teachers, that she wasn’t sure how to deal with the girls if she had been confronted on her own. So she had fled the school as soon as the day was out, and arrived home nearly two hours earlier than normal.  
  
Walking up to the front door she had already known something was different today, because both of her parents vehicles were in the driveway. Normally they stayed much later than this at their practice, which was another reason that Hermione normally stayed late at school to read. After she’d opened the front door and found the ground floor empty, she’d walked up the stairs curiously until she’d heard some kind of smacking sound coming from her parents room.  
  
Worried they might be in some kind of trouble, Hermione had bounded up the last few steps approaching the door. As she drew nearer, she was able to hear her mother’s voice after the last two smacking sounds.  
  
“Thank you Master!… Thank you Master!”  
  
Pushing the door open, Hermione had screamed at seeing her father holding some kind of device clearly meant to harm someone and her mother clearly being harmed. The scream had scared both Michael and Elizabeth as well, each letting out a startled yelp. Elizabeth, being bound, wasn’t able to do anything, but Michael had taken a step towards their daughter.  
  
“Sweethea—”  
  
“Stay away!” Hermione had shouted, taking a few steps back. The girl had been pleased to see that her father did indeed stop, and she’d been about to announce her intention to phone the authorities, when he’d reached down and started removing all of the restraints her mother was in.  
  
This was confusing. Perhaps he knew he was caught out, and was giving up quietly? Hermione’s eyes focused on her mother and only just now noticed that she was naked. Face blazing in embarrassment and horror, Hermione looked away. A few moments later she heard Elizabeth stand up free of the restraints, put on some clothes, and approach her.  
  
“Come on sweetie, let’s go talk.”  
  
Hermione was now thoroughly confused. Hadn’t dad gone mad or something? She didn’t see any other explanation for what she’d walked in on. But her confusion made it difficult for her to be decisive about action, and so she’d followed her mother down the stairs and into the kitchen where Elizabeth had started making some tea.  
  
“Mum, what… you don’t… should I call—”  
  
“No, sweetie, I want you to listen,” Elizabeth had told her. “But like any proper conversation, we will be having it over tea.” Elizabeth turned and looked at her daughter for a few moments. “You’re extremely intelligent, Hermione. I want you to spend the time the water takes to boil thinking through what questions you have, and what assumptions you’re making.”  
  
And so, she did.  
  
Her questions were numerous. Why aren’t you angry? How long has this been going on? How could dad be an abuser? How had she never noticed? What were they going to do?  
  
To Hermione’s mind, there were only two answers to the first question: either her mother wasn’t angry because she wanted what had been witnessed to happen, or because she was mentally abused and damaged enough to not understand what was happening.  
  
But the second option was difficult for Hermione to accept, if for no other reason than the fact that the values driving Hermione’s indignation were values that her mother had taught her. She couldn’t come up with any plausible explanation for why her mother might have wanted what she’d witnessed to happen though. There was some critical piece of information that Hermione was missing, and it was driving her absolutely up the wall to wait for it. This was _far_ worse than having to go slow in classes because other students weren’t studying.  
  
Ironically though, Hermione’s frustration with having to wait had distracted her from the passage of time, and her thoughts were interrupted by Elizabeth placing a cup of tea in front of her. It was herbal tea, and unsweetened. No sugar and no caffeine, the only kind she was allowed to have.  
  
“Do you remember the talk I gave you a few months ago about sex, sweetie?” Elizabeth asked, drawing Hermione’s attention. Hermione looked at her confused. That was _quite_ the change of subject.  
  
“Yes, but—”  
  
“What you just saw,” Elizabeth interrupted again, “is related to sex.”  
  
Hermione was now too dumbfounded to be embarrassed by revisiting this horrifying discussion.  
  
“What?” Hermione replied faintly. “But… dad had his clothes on, and he wasn’t inside you, and—” Hermione snapped her mouth closed and looked away, just realizing what she’d said.  
  
_Dear Lord,_ Hermione thought. _This is an awkwardness that will never wear off._  
  
“There is much more to sex than the basics that I covered before, or that your classes did,” Elizabeth explained patiently. “For adults, sex usually means the sharing of an intimate pleasure of some kind, often a physical pleasure.”  
  
“Pleasure!?” Hermione nearly shouted back. “He was hitting you! With… With some kind of whip or flog or—”  
  
“Hermione,” Elizabeth interrupted again. “I don’t expect you to fully understand, but I was enjoying what you saw. Genuinely enjoying it. You don’t have to know why, but please trust that I am being truthful.”  
  
That sobered Hermione’s thoughts rather sharply. Neither of her parents ever lied to her. Sometimes they refused to give her full answers, but they never hid that fact either. Instead they usually explained the limitation of what they were willing to tell her. But they didn’t lie.  
  
_Yes, but is she in her right mind?_ Hermione couldn’t stop the thought from racing through her head again. _How could the woman that taught me to be a feminist, the woman that taught me about equality… want to experience what I just saw?_  
  
“But… why?”  
  
“Because, sweetie, sometimes I just want to… be. To let it all go.” Elizabeth took a sip of her tea. “Do you ever experience the pleasure of just… existing without any kind of worry?”  
  
“Not really,” Hermione answered with a frown.  
  
“Can you imagine it?”  
  
Hermione tried to. Having a period of time where all the stress, and pressure, and neuroticism, and expectation, and worry just weren’t there. Her mind had honestly never considered the idea that being able to avoid all those things, even temporarily, might be possible. But now that she had she thought she understood why such a feeling might be worth a little physical pain. But how those two things were connected still didn’t make any sense.  
  
“How… does it do that? What I saw?”  
  
Elizabeth looked at her daughter for several moments before standing up and moving into the kitchen. Hermione watched curiously as her mother opened a cupboard that she knew held the baking supplies. She reached up to the very top shelf and pulled out… books? Three books. Why had they been up there?  
  
_Because mum knew it was the only place in the house that a book might hide from me reading it,_ Hermione reasoned.  
  
Elizabeth walked back and set the books down in front of Hermione.  
  
“Go ahead and read these books, sweetie. They are far more complete in their explanation than I could hope to be. Once you’ve read them, I’ll answer questions about the ideas.”  
  
Hermione nodded and collected the books, running up to her room.  
  
###  
  
Hermione lay in her dorm room bed panting, her mind working furiously over the fantasy she’d just finished having.  
  
It had involved Harry, which was embarrassing enough on its own, and it also involved the only subject she’d ever learned about that she’d felt the desire to unlearn at times. About the type of relationship her parents shared.  
  
This hadn’t come out of nowhere, Hermione knew it wasn’t as simple as following in her parent’s footsteps, or the type of imitation that many children and teenagers went through. No, this fantasy had been triggered by a very specific event.  
  
Not three weeks ago two boys had saved her from certain death when a mountain troll had made its way into the school. Though they were sometimes frustrating, and most definitely _boys_ , they were now her best — and only — friends. She hoped at some point she could make friends with the girls in her dorm, but it hadn’t happened yet.  
  
The rescue, for that’s what it really had been, had cemented their friendship with each other in a way that few things can except shared trauma of some kind. Thinking you’re about to die was _quite_ traumatic, she could now say from experience. But that alone isn’t what had triggered the fantasy.  
  
It was afterward when she’d run to the library. Hermione had already absorbed quite a lot about how magic worked and the types of ideas that were common in magic and among those who used it. After being saved it was with severe trepidation that Hermione had wondered at the magical implications of the event. She had only been a proper witch for a few months, but based on what she had experienced so far, she wouldn’t have been surprised at learning she was now magically obligated to owe something to them for saving her life.  
  
So she’d run the library and it had only taken her two days to find the entry on life debts. She’d breathed a sigh of relief after reading through the whole entry. It was nothing but a tradition, and the tradition was no longer observed anywhere. There was no kind of magical bond or force involved, and in the present day not even the most traditional families would observe the practice. It had been nearly two centuries since a formal life debt had been acknowledged, and the solution for that case had been the summary payment of one years wages.  
  
Her mind had been playing fears through her head of this wondrous and integral part of her called ‘magic’ forcing her into some kind of slavery to two boys who were both nearly a full year younger than her. Even though they weren’t even teenagers yet, Hermione’s imagination had feared that it wouldn’t take long before her modesty and pride were thoroughly violated in such a situation, and the prospect had caused absolute abject fear to course through her.  
  
But there was nothing. Her magic wasn’t going to betray her freedom or choice, and she could simply be a friend to them. An equal.  
  
The fantasy though had been a vision into such a fate, but with a very different connotation. She had been feeling an urge, as she sometimes did now, and settled in to… relieve it. Casting a quick silencing charm (one of the very first spells she’d endeavored to learn), she’d let her mind drift and it had settled as it often did on something she had thought about that day.  
  
Only in the fantasy she wasn’t betrayed by her magic, she was offering herself to Harry in payment for his heroic efforts. He was the knight in shining armor, and she was his prize, and goodness it had been the hottest thing she had ever had a fantasy about. Her contented mind wondered at two things as she relaxed into her pillow, breathing softly: the first was why it had only been Harry, and the second was why it had been so appealing now when it had been so terrifying before.  
  
She felt the answer to the first question was that Ron had been partially responsible for her being in danger in the first place. He’d apologized, and she’d accepted. True, it was Ron that had done the actual spell that knocked out the troll, but Ron’s part in creating the situation in her mind made her feel more that they were even instead of her owing him anything personal. With Harry though, he’d thrown himself into danger with barely a second thought. Barely a first thought even. He’d just… acted.  
  
The answer to the second question was more difficult to tease out, but she felt it must be related to the only difference she could tell between the two imagined scenarios. In the one she had feared, she was forced into the situation by her magic, completely and utterly at the mercy of someone else without any choice or recourse. In the other that she found disturbingly appealing, she was offering, even _convincing_ Harry to ‘claim his prize’.  
  
She wasn’t quite sure what exactly that difference meant, but it tickled a part of what she’d read a year and a half ago when her mother had given her those books. Choice was everything. There was a lot about those books, and her mother’s answers afterward, that she hadn’t really understood. But now she felt like she understood something about the difference that choice made at a much more visceral level.  
  
When she got home for Christmas in a few weeks, she was going to read those books again. Perhaps this time she would understand more.  
  
###  
  
It had only been a week back from school, her first year completed, and Hermione was going absolutely crazy. Her study of the books again during the winter holidays had certainly given her a great deal of _clarity_ about her fantasies, but it had also given her time to deeply consider the nature of what exactly she found erotic about it and why.  
  
Hermione had so many things she wanted to be. She wanted to be involved in politics and making policy, which most would consider quite a precocious goal for a 12 year old. She wanted to prove that she could be as good as any pure-blooded witch or wizard, and on that count she was succeeding so far. She wanted to keep her friends safe and protected, and had discovered in her very first year just how difficult that might be.  
  
These things all required an enormous amount of drive and effort from her. Study, learn, practice… study, learn, practice… study, learn, practice… It was absolutely exhausting, and she had started to find herself without the energy to do the simple things in her life after she had dedicated herself to the ‘important matters’.  
  
Taking care of her appearance had suffered greatly. It was never something she was overly concerned by, but her hair had fallen into an absolutely frightful state this year, and certain parts of basic grooming were sometimes being skipped because she just couldn’t muster the drive to care about it all the time. She had been skipping showers here and there, sometimes skipping meals… the real alarm bells happened when she’d started skipping her teeth brushing. Not that she didn’t have time, not that she was too dead tired, she just couldn’t conjure the will to do it… all of her will was directed into the responsibilities she felt were more important.  
  
Hermione thought of it like a resource. She only had so much will to spend per day, and when it was out that was it. Sure, she could do things, but often it was at the prompting of other people.  
  
That’s what was driving her submissive fantasies more than anything. More than her desire to mimic her mother who Hermione respected dearly, and more than a pure sense of power or lack of it. No, it was the ability to delegate her will to another person, to have that person carry the burden of ‘everything else’ that made it so appealing. In her fantasies, she could feel the complete release of tension that accompanied the idea of having a space that was completely separate from all the other things she dedicated herself to where she didn’t need to make decisions or accomplish things. Where she could just be. But when that energy released, it was like all the other energy inside her released too, including all the sexual energy that her now developing body built up.  
  
Hermione didn’t need to be a slave like her mother was, she just needed… a relief valve. Scenes where she could let go, be an obedient little submissive, and recharge herself.  
  
Unfortunately… or maybe it was fortunate, Hermione hadn’t decided yet… her parents were the only people that she knew _could_ help with this that she also _trusted_ to help. While a part of her felt a bit perturbed by the prospect of doing anything sexual with her parents, there was a furiously independent part of her that balked at the idea of caring about that particular quirk. Her friends, and teachers, and even her parents themselves might not think she was capable of making such a decision at her age… that she couldn’t truly choose or consent… but she knew fully what she was considering and why.  
  
Besides, Hermione thought with a thrill, there _was_ a certain… forbidden allure to doing something that was so frowned upon by proper society. Perhaps it tickled the part of her that wanted to thumb her nose at all the blood politics bigotry she had encountered, and the hateful ways her peers had treated her in primary school, but there was a kind of satisfaction in her mind at the thought of those people being bested by a girl who was also depraved enough to engage in the ultimate taboo of incest.  
  
All of this is why she was standing at the top of the stairs, preparing herself to make a very odd request of her parents. She sighed and shook her head. There was nothing for it but to walk down the stairs and start, nothing would change until she did.  
  
Entering the living room, her parents were seated and relaxing in the early weekend afternoon. She walked up in front of them and decided the best tactic was to just lay it out there without preamble.  
  
_Perhaps the hat was right to put me in Gryffindor…_  
  
“Mum, dad…” Hermione started, waiting until she had their attention. “I would like it if one or both you would be a Dom for me in limited sessions.”  
  
They stared at her, as if not really comprehending her request, so she pressed forward.  
  
“I’ve been having fantasies about it since the holidays, and I just… I _need_ it. I need to have a dynamic like this because I just don’t have enough to keep pushing forward on everything at school on my own. I need that… release, and simplicity, and…”  
  
Hermione trailed off, her well practiced words feeling feeble as she continued. This had been a mistake, maybe.  
  
“Sweetie,” Elizabeth said after a moderate silence, “I understand the need you’re describing, but… I’m not sure that you really understand what you’re asking for, and I’m also uncomfortable with… well, with being with my daughter in that way.”  
  
“Sweetheart,” Michael said slowly. Hermione turned her gaze to his face and saw a visage of guilt and discomfort. “I’m… sorry.” Michael looked away, anguish on his face. “I feel like we damaged you somehow, like what I did—”  
  
“We talked about this dad,” Hermione interjected. “That wasn’t your fault, it was… it was mine, for being so nosy. Perhaps the two of you influenced this by at least introducing me to the basic concepts, but I’m certain that you didn’t ‘damage’ me. Didn’t the two of you explain to me that what you do isn’t for everyone, but it’s also nothing to be ashamed of?”  
  
“Yes, but—”  
  
“And didn’t you two also explain that sexual experimentation is a normal part of this stage of my life?”  
  
“Certainly, but—”  
  
“And wouldn’t you rather help me with this than have me explore something as risky as submission with some random boy at school?”  
  
“Hermione!” Elizabeth shouted, ending the girl’s rant. “That’s unfair and you know it!” Elizabeth turned to Michael for a moment and sighed.  
  
“Princess,” Michael said in almost a pleading tone. Hermione’s conviction and determination wavered. Her father hadn’t called her that in years, since she was a very little girl. “Of course I don’t want you exploring this with some _random_ boy at school, but I don’t for a minute believe that the person would be _random_. You have so much time to explore this sort of thing, there’s no rush to grow up in this way.”  
  
“Dad,” Hermione said, much more gently than her near interrogation earlier had been. “I… I know. I’m not asking for this because I want to… be more mature, or rush things. I’m not in a hurry to grow up. I’m asking because… I really do need it. School, is so… stressful.”  
  
“Sweetie,” Elizabeth asked concerned, “is something going on at school?”  
  
“No,” Hermione replied evenly, feeling dirty for using such a blatant lie, “it’s just that magic is so much more work and stress than anything else I’ve ever done. I can’t… I only have enough to push towards my goals, I don’t have anything left for myself. I need someone else for that part.”  
  
“Don’t you feel strange?” Michael asked, still clearly uncomfortable. “About asking us I mean? I can tell the magical world is quite different from ours, but I didn’t get the impression that… sexual activity with your parents is something they would condone.”  
  
Hermione hesitated a bit.  
  
“They… well, they are a bit more open about that sort of thing within the same family, but… you’re right, it seems to be mostly limited to cousins. Still,” Hermione pressed, “I’m not asking for that because you’re my mum and dad, I’m asking because you’re the only two I could trust.”  
  
Michael and Elizabeth were both silent for several seconds.  
  
“Does that mean the fantasies you mentioned are about us sweetie?” Elizabeth asked. It was an admirable effort at being matter-of-fact, but Hermione could still detect the hint of unease.  
  
“No… they’re… well, they’re not about either of you.”  
  
“Then why—”  
  
“Because,” Hermione answered before the question was even finished. “I don’t think he’d understand, and even if he did, he definitely wouldn’t know how. Until… until that changes, I just need… I just need a session here or there. I’m not asking for the type of Total Power Exchange you have with each other, or for us to change anything outside of the sessions. You’ll still be the same parents, I just need… that valve.”  
  
“You can’t do this kind of thing and expect everything else to stay the same,” Michael told her with a frown. He turned and looked at Elizabeth, and they seemed to agree to something, before he faced Hermione again. “Why don’t you go upstairs to your room sweetheart, your mother and I will discuss this.”  
  
Hermione wanted to argue. She wanted to be here, to represent her request and make her case… but her protestations died in her throat at the look her father was giving. There was a finality to it. They _wouldn’t_ be deciding their answer with Hermione in the room.  
  
“Alright,” Hermione said, turning to leave. She paused at the doorway and looked back into the room. “I’m… sorry. For burdening you with this. I can tell how uncomfortable it’s made you.”  
  
“Oh sweetie,” Elizabeth replied with a truly warm expression, “no matter what it is, and no matter how uncomfortable it may be, telling us about what’s bothering you is never a burden for us.”  
  
Hermione nodded and went to her room.  
  
She tried to get some of her summer homework done, but she couldn’t focus. She tried to read through a book, but frustratingly even that pastime failed her. So she simply waited. The seconds passed with an agonizing leisure that gave her far too many opportunities to reconsider if this had been the best idea. She was still confident in her request, but what if they said no and this changed things between them in way that not even magic had?  
  
There was a soft knock at the door and Hermione looked up to find her mother standing in the open doorway.  
  
“Hey there sweetie, how are you doing?”  
  
“Alright,” Hermione mumbled. She frowned. She hated how petulant and immature that answer had sounded to her ears.  
  
“Sweetie, we don’t doubt the things you’ve told us, but we’re also obviously a bit uncomfortable with your request. So, we’d like to make a compromise: make it through on your own until you’re 15, and if you still feel this way, we’ll at least help you find someone.”  
  
Hermione’s heart fell a bit at the answer… fifteen seemed so far away. But she was also intrigued.  
  
“Why 15?”  
  
“We both think that by that time you’re much more likely to have a full grasp on what you want,” Elizabeth answered. “And the summer you’ll be 15 is after your fourth year. Fifth year is the one with the assessment test you mentioned, right?” Hermione nodded. “If you still _need_ this from us that summer, for the reasons you talked about, then your fifth year will probably be unbearable without the kind of release you’re asking for. Should that be the case, then we’ll help you if only to maintain your mental health.”  
  
“And…” Hermione fidgeted. “And if you can’t find someone for me?”  
  
“Then…” Elizabeth paused. “Then we will at least consider the option you proposed. Do you think you can do that sweetie? Do you think you can find other outlets until after fourth year?”  
  
“I’ll… I’ll try, mum.”  
  
Elizabeth patted her on the head.  
  
“Good girl.”  
  
###  
  
“Yes mum,” Hermione mumbled. “I know we’ve talked about this before, but… I can’t change who I am mum. This is who I am.”  
  
“Very well…” Hermione turned and looked at her mother, whose face had become harder. “These are the rules, miss. First, you will obey any instruction from your father or me without hesitating. Hesitation will be punished.” Hermione felt her face flush and her body tingle in excitement as her mother continued. “Second, you will maintain your modesty around your father at all times. You will only expose yourself to me, not him. Third, you will begin shaving.” Elizabeth reached into the bag and pulled out a razor. “Both your legs and cunt.”  
  
Hermione startled, her face burning. For all that people might expect from having parents with such a lifestyle, she’d never heard such crude language from either of her parents.  
  
“Um… I don’t… have much hair down… there,” Hermione said shakily.  
  
“On your _cunt_ , you mean?” Hermione blushed even more furiously. “Dear, if you _choose_ to submit, that’s what it’s called. You don’t get to hide behind euphemisms and elegant language any more.” Elizabeth reached out, grabbing Hermione’s jaw and forcing her to look directly and her mother. “Say it. Properly.”  
  
“I… don’t have much hair… on my… cunt.” Hermione was sure that her face was going to burst into flame.  
  
“Good girl,” Elizabeth said, patting Hermione lightly on the top of her head. “Fourth, you will no longer wear panties or a bra while at home, and you’ll wear what we tell you to at all other times.” Elizabeth stood up taking a deep breath. “Now, for your punishment that you requested.”  
  
She reached into the bag and pulled out a plug with a gem on the end.  
  
“You will wear this at all times unless you are using the restroom or receive special permission from me or your father, you will be receiving 20 lashings this evening from me, and…” Elizabeth smirked. “You will need to convince Harry to take you on your own. We will give you no help with that.”  
  
Hermione made a strangling noise and looked up at her mother with wide eyes.  
  
“But mum, I—”  
  
She was cut off by a swift backhand to the face.  
  
“Don’t talk back, slut.”  
  
Hermione was startled, and anxious, and… excited. So excited. This is what she had been missing, what she had wanted for so long. The lack of it had been a constant source of stress and driven her into the wild panics and moods she was now well known for. She could feel warmth beginning to pool in her crotch, and she knew that she’d made the right decision.  
  
Elizabeth leaned down, an amused and somewhat predatory grin on her face.  
  
“Take off your clothes, get on your back, and spread your legs.”  
  
Hermione played the command over in her head once before starting to disrobe, hoping that she hadn’t hesitated long enough to warrant an additional punishment of any kind. She glanced back at her mother as she disrobed, who seemed… pleased? At ease, perhaps.  
  
In under a minute Hermione was in the position commanded, her whole body seeming to blush. No matter that this is what she wanted, she could not stifle the embarrassment that exposing herself like this generated. Especially to her own mother.  
  
“Hmmm,” Elizabeth’s voice hummed, causing Hermione to jump. The sound had come from between her legs, she could feel the breath on her moist lips. “I can work with this.”  
  
She heard the noises of some kind of fluid being rubbed, and risked a glance down. Her mother was lubricating the plug. Elizabeth caught her daughter’s eye and smiled again in that way that sent chills down Hermione’s spine.  
  
“Only I may insert it or remove it. If you need it removed, you must come to me and ask.”  
  
And with that, Hermione felt the sudden intrusion and her mother pushed the plug inside her. She screamed and moaned, a combined sound of surprise, and pleasure, and excitement, and pain.  
  
Elizabeth stood and nodded.  
  
“It didn’t matter that we never involved you or influenced you. It didn’t matter that we pushed you to be smart, to work hard.” Elizabeth reached down and pushed a single finger inside her daughter’s cunt, causing Hermione to squeak. “It didn’t matter because you’ve always been a slut at heart, isn’t that right?” Elizabeth pulled out her finger with a wet sound.  
  
“Yes, mu—”  
  
Hermione’s words we cut off as the wet finger was pushed in her mouth. She closed her eyes and relaxed onto the bed. Yes, this had been the _perfect_ decision.  
  
**Author's Note:**  
  
If you’re interested, you’re welcome to join me on my Discord server:  
  
<https://discord.gg/TQ25x5u>


	2. What Are You?

Chapter 2  
What Are You?  
  
###  
  
Hermione breathed heavily, trying to focus on her homework. Yes, it was the first day back, and yes, she had plenty of time to work on it. But the plug inside her, a brand new experience, was driving her crazy and anything that she could focus on outside of that was a welcome distraction at the moment. Merlin, how was she going to last with this plug inside her for the rest of the week, let alone the rest of the summer?  
  
A knock at her door brought her out of her thoughts and her eyes immediately refocused on the parchment in front of her. She realized with a sigh that there was nothing on it but some ink blots, as she’d been zoning out instead of working.  
  
“Come in,” she called out. She turned in her desk chair, the plug shifting in an excruciating but pleasant way, and saw her father enter.  
  
“Hello there, sweetheart,” Michael said with a smile. “Come give your father a hug.”  
  
Hermione grinned and jumped up, her body jerking slightly as she was again reminded of the unusual intruder she was carrying. She walked over and wrapped her arms around him, pulling tight. After a few moments they pulled apart and Michael gestured toward her bed as he pulled her desk chair out for himself. Hermione sat down gingerly and turned her attention to him.  
  
“Did your mother explain our decision to you sweetheart?” Michael asked gently. Hermione’s face blazed again, and she nodded.  
  
“Yes dad,” she answered. Michael watched her for a few seconds before continuing.  
  
“What we’ve agreed on is that your mother will be in charge of punishing you and training you, and I will be responsible for answering your questions, giving you information that you need, and preparing you for what will be expected of you.” Michael paused and looked thoughtful for a second. “Most of the physical nature of your training will fall to her. We both feel it will be better if your first real interaction with a man in this way is with the one who claims you properly. That’s why I won’t be involved in that way. But I will help you understand the decision you’re making, and answer any questions. If at any time you decide this isn’t for you, let me or your mother know.”  
  
Hermione nodded, shifting uncomfortably.  
  
“Ummm…” Hermione paused, not sure if she was allowed to speak yet, but the reassuring look Michael gave her was encouraging. “Mum told me to wear the… plug, at all times. It’s making me feel… well, wonderful really. But, I’m not sure if I’m allowed to…” Hermione trailed off, her words failing her in how to convey the last part of her question.  
  
Michael grinned mischievously.  
  
“You want to know if you’re allowed to pleasure yourself? If you’re allowed to cum?”  
  
Hermione blushed once more, but nodded without breaking eye contact. She needed to get over her embarrassment if she wanted this to be her life.  
  
“The answer is… sort of. You must ask permission before doing so, but it’s not something that we will prevent often.”  
  
“Thank you,” Hermione said, flushing in anticipation this time instead of embarrassment.  
  
“Do you have any other questions at the moment?” Michael asked lightly.  
  
“May I, erm… please play with myself? And cum?” Hermione was so proud of how she’d barely stumbled over her words this time while holder her father’s gaze. An amused look crossed his face.  
  
“I will see what your mother thinks when I go downstairs, but you _are_ being punished today.” Michael chuckled at the enthusiasm that was on her face, even if she didn’t realize it. “Before I leave though, I want to let you know more details about what will be happening this evening and tomorrow morning.  
  
“In a few hours dinner will be ready, and you will come downstairs to eat. After dinner, your mother has some… plans for you, which I leave to her to reveal, before you will receive your lashes. These will be given here, in your room. You will be given specific instructions on how to sleep, and then tomorrow morning you will spend being properly introduced to your role by your mother while I am at the practice.” Michael gave a somewhat heavy sigh and his face hardened.  
  
“Hermione, do not mistake my absence from your training as either a lack of interest in my daughter’s life or a lack of will on my part. We both think it is best if we prevent you from getting attached to me sexually, for many reasons that I should think are obvious. But do not test me, and do not push me. I will punish you myself if it becomes necessary, and it is important that you remember in this house I am _always_ in charge. Your mother _belongs_ to me. Every punishment her hand delivers it delivers at my direction, every lash you receive is given by something that belongs to me. You are young, and this can be very confusing. But do not get confused about who runs this house.” His eyes narrowed. “Am I understood?”  
  
Hermione’s eyes widened as his speech went on and she nodded at his question, her heart thudding in her chest.  
  
“Y-Yes, Sir.”  
  
Michael’s expression morphed immediately into the good-natured, caring face that Hermione was so familiar with.  
  
“Good girl,” he said, standing up and patting her head. “I’ll go get your mother and send her up to… attend to your needs.”  
  
Hermione watched him walk our and felt her breathing become heavy. That had been… thrilling, and everything she had hoped for. A part of her now knew _exactly_ why her parents wouldn’t let her interact sexually with her father: he would set the bar very high for other men.  
  
Her eyes darted back to the door as she heard footsteps approaching once more. Elizabeth walked in and Hermione gulped at what she saw. Her mother was wearing a short skirt made of latex, and a half bra that didn’t cover the breasts. And nothing else. Hermione was brought out of her reverie as her mother spoke.  
  
“Before we go further, I need to know Hermione. What kind of dynamic do you want, who do you want it with, and why? I think I know the answers to all three of these questions, but I need to hear you say them.”  
  
Hermione thought back to the summer after second year when she’d finally settled on all three answers.  
  
###  
  
Hermione set her trunk down in her room and let out a heavy sigh. This year had been even worse than the last, and unfortunately for her parents, Hermione felt the need to bring up the very uncomfortable conversation she’d raised last summer. Perhaps though she could just ask her mother alone first?  
  
She laid down on her bed and thought back to the new conclusions she had drawn. The fantasies hadn’t gone away, in fact they had only gotten more intense. Harry nearly always featured in the center of them, but every so often her fantasies were about a faceless abstract person instead. She’d felt the need for that release, for that unburdening, even more intensely this year, but the petrification had drastically changed some of the things she was considering.  
  
Being petrified had been a terrifying experience. Weeks and weeks of not being able to move, or speak, but still being able to experience and hear. She had never felt so restricted and confined, and it had been an experience of pure fear much like her imagined life debt scenarios had been in first year. But every so often Harry had come by her hospital bed and just talked with her.  
  
Hermione had never heard Harry speak so continuously, he was usually far too reserved to speak at that kind of length. But he had done it anyway.  
  
If Hermione had any doubts before about whether Harry was simply a convenient fantasy or genuine object of her desires and affections, being petrified had banished them. She felt a near constant terror except when he visited her. Instead, lying there utterly restrained… utterly _controlled_ … and listening to him talk… it had felt safe and comforting. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, where she should be all of the time.  
  
That realization alone had also been somewhat frightening, but fortunately for Hermione, she had an actual example of what that sort of arrangement could look like: her parents.  
  
Hermione no longer wanted sessions, she wanted full and complete submission. She wanted to be owned, to be controlled in that same way, to have that totally complete exchange of power with someone that she trusted with her very life. But as much as that kind of control might actually help Harry… she just couldn’t see how in the world she would bring it up with him.  
  
So, she would bring it up with her mother instead. The sanitized version, at least. She got up off her bed and walked through the house, finding her mother doing a load of laundry.  
  
“Mum?” Hermione started. “I want to talk with you, if that’s okay.”  
  
“Sure, sweetie,” Elizabeth replied, setting the clothes aside. “What’s going on?”  
  
“I… remember the conversation we had last summer? About sessions?”  
  
Elizabeth’s face turned into a frown.  
  
“Yes, but it’s only been one year.”  
  
“Mum, I don’t just want sessions any more,” Hermione said. “I want… I want what you have, what you do. That total and complete submission.”  
  
“Sweetie…” Elizabeth said hesitantly. “Are you… how could you know that you want that?”  
  
“It’s… something I figured out this year.” Hermione paused. “I don’t know if I can wait mum. Two more years? I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it that long.”  
  
“What do you mean make it?” Elizabeth asked, concerned.  
  
“Before I… just snap. Have a break down. I don’t know if I can do it.”  
  
“Sweetie,” Elizabeth said slowly, “you remember the conversations we had when you were 10 after you walked in on us, right? What I do is… it’s much more at the extreme end of this lifestyle, Hermione. It’s not a light commitment.”  
  
“I know that mum, but I’m sure with everything that I am it’s what I want.”  
  
“It means trusting someone with not just you safety, but with your mind as well,” Elizabeth said softly. “Do you even have someone you could trust like that?”  
  
“I… yes, mum. I do.”  
  
“How do you know it’s not just a fantasy, sweetie? How do you know that it’s something that you truly want?”  
  
Hermione thought about her petrification again.  
  
“I… just do mum. I know. This isn’t just fantasy, I know that I want the real thing.”  
  
Elizabeth stared at her for several seconds before nodding.  
  
“I think I believe you,” Elizabeth said, “but I still think you’re not ready for it yet. And you definitely shouldn’t engage in that until you’re ready to start it with an actual partner, not your parents.”  
  
Hermione frowned, but nodded. It was the response she had been expecting, but she’d had to at least try.  
  
###  
  
“Remember what I said after second year?” Hermione asked. Elizabeth nodded, thinking back to the conversation. At the time it hadn’t made much sense, but Elizabeth suspected now what had made her daughter come to the conclusion knowing the events Hermione had been through. “That’s… that’s what I want. Complete submission. And… I want Harry. That’s who I want to submit to.”  
  
“And the why?” Elizabeth asked.  
  
“Why I think that or why I want it?”  
  
They looked at each other in silence for several seconds.  
  
“I think I know _why_ you want it better than anyone,” Elizabeth said. “But I want to know what made you realize it. What makes you think it’s right for you?”  
  
“It’s when I was petrified,” Hermione answered, looking down. “It… it was terrifying and it was a complete a total submission, in a way. But when Harry was there… it was safe and comforting and… perfect. I just want to be like that all the time. That’s when I realized it.”  
  
“And that’s what you want me to train you for?”  
  
Hermione nodded.  
  
“Alright… then that’s what we’ll do.” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Your father tells me that you need to cum, slut?” Elizabeth cocked her hips and placed one hand against them. The post exuded confidence and sexuality.  
  
“Yes, mum,” Hermione responded softly. Elizabeth sighed, took the few steps over to Hermione, and grabbed her jaw firmly like she had earlier.  
  
“You will call me Mistress. At all times.” Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t care if we’re standing next to the Queen, when you address me it will _always_ be Mistress. Do you understand?”  
  
Hermione was entranced by her mother’s will and power.  
  
“Yes, Mistress.”  
  
Elizabeth smiled with something more like satisfaction than affection and let go of Hermione’s jaw.  
  
“Good girl. Now, why do you want to cum?”  
  
Hermione didn’t respond for several seconds, unsure of how exactly to answer that question.  
  
“Well, the plug has made me… very horny, mum, and I—”  
  
Hermione fell to the side in a heap as Elizabeth’s hand delivered a powerful slap across her face.  
  
“What did I _just_ tell you, slut?” Elizabeth asked dangerously.  
  
“Mistress!” Hermione cried out, realizing her mistake. “I’m sorry, Mistress.”  
  
Elizabeth watched her get back into a seated position, the side of her face an angry red, before nodding for her to continue.  
  
“The plug has made me very horny, Mistress, and I want to cum to relieve the tension.”  
  
Elizabeth hummed for a few seconds, as if considering something.  
  
“No,” she finally replied. “You want to cum because you are a slut, and that’s what sluts do.”  
  
The rest of Hermione’s face turned red, hiding the hand print. Hearing her own mother say such a thing was so… degrading. And exciting. The intensity of her mother’s stare was almost unbearable, and Hermione’s gaze dropped to her knees.  
  
“Yes, Mistress.”  
  
A few seconds passed before Elizabeth spoke again.  
  
“Say it.”  
  
“Say what, Mistress?”  
  
“Say why you want to cum.”  
  
Hermione felt her stomach flutter.  
  
“I want to cum because I’m… a slut, and that’s what sluts do, Mistress.”  
  
“Good girl,” Elizabeth said, patting Hermione on the head. She was already coming to associate the patting with praise, and felt a small warmth of pride wash through her at the contact and words. “Part of being a slave is that your body no longer belongs to you,” Elizabeth began to explain, using a lecture voice that any of Hermione’s acquaintances would readily recognize. “As such, nothing that you gain from your body, nothing that your body makes, and nothing that your body is used for belongs to you either. This includes your orgasms. It will take time, but if you want to do this, you need to learn to think of your body and the things that it gives you as gifts from the one that owns you.”  
  
A part of Hermione felt like she should be furiously scribbling notes as she listened to her mother, but instead she listened carefully and nodded.  
  
“What you are asking for right now, is for me to let you use my property to enjoy yourself. I have no reason to grant such a request. I get nothing from it.”  
  
Hermione felt the urge to object, to argue. But her mind was traveling to different places than it usually did, and helping to curb and control her natural reactions was part of the reason she wanted this, wasn’t it? Instead, after a few seconds, Hermione nodded.  
  
“I understand, Mistress.”  
  
Elizabeth watched Hermione’s face, before that predatory smile returned to her features.  
  
“Remove your clothing and lay on your bed, face up.”  
  
Hermione took only a second of thought before she stood and began stripping her clothing off. She hadn’t actually been wearing much, only shorts and a t-shirt. Laying down, Elizabeth walked to the edge of the bed and reached down, her fingers closing on one of Hermione’s nipples. For a single, glorious moment, she thought that her mother was about to help her find release. But that came crashing down abruptly when her mother squeezed painfully tight and twisted.  
  
“Hesitation will be punished,” Elizabeth said evenly, holding the tweaked nipple several seconds before letting go.  
  
Hermione gave several cries of pain and surprise, and when he mother finally let her abused nipple go, she felt tears welling up in her eyes.  
  
“I’m sorry, Mistress.”  
  
Elizabeth nodded before putting her hands on her hips and examining Hermione’s naked body openly. Hermione could feel her embarrassment returning, but she tried to squash it down as much as she could.  
  
“Slut’s always have to work for their rewards. And what are you?”  
  
Hermione’s stimulated mind took a second to piece together what her mother wanted.  
  
“I’m a slut.”  
  
Elizabeth reached out and tweaked the same nipple again.  
  
“Hesitation will be punished,” she once more intoned. “What are you?”  
  
“I’m a slut,” Hermione answered immediately.  
  
“Again.”  
  
“I’m a slut.”  
  
“Again!”  
  
“I’m a slut!” Hermione almost shouted it this time.  
  
“Good girl,” Elizabeth said, and Hermione felt the warmth pass through again at the pat on her head. “Now,” Elizabeth said, standing near Hermione’s head. “You will work for your reward.”  
  
Elizabeth raised a leg to crawl onto the bed, and Hermione saw that she wasn’t wearing any panties underneath the small latex skirt. Not sure what exactly her mother had it mind, Hermione laid still, but only a few seconds later her mother was straddling her head, and Elizabeth’s naked, glistening sex was only inches from her face.  
  
“What do you see slut?” Elizabeth asked.  
  
“Your vagina?” Hermione replied questioningly.  
  
“Wrong answer,” Elizabeth said, reaching behind her and tweaking Hermione’s nipple again. The bushy haired teenager cried out in pain again.  
  
“Cunt! Your cunt! I see Mistress’ cunt!”  
  
“Good girl,” Elizabeth responded. “Now, you may play with your cunt so long as you are eating mine. However you may not cum before I have. Do you understand slut?”  
  
“Yes, Mistre—”  
  
The rest of the word was cut off as Elizabeth roughly pressed her wet fold into Hermione’s open mouth. For a second or so, Hermione was too surprised to do anything, which turned out to be an error.  
  
“Hesitation,” Elizabeth began, reaching back and twisting Hermione’s nipple more painfully than any time before, “will be _punished_.” She said the last word with a mix of enthusiasm and satisfaction, as Hermione’s muffled cries sent a pleasurable wave through her. Holding the punishment for a bit longer than before, if only to enjoy the pleasure her daughter’s cries brought her, she eventually released it.  
  
“Now,” she said in a somewhat smug voice. “Eat my cunt and finger your own like the pathetic slut you are!”  
  
Hermione understood this was not a suggestion, and darted her tongue out, reaching between her own legs at the same time.  
  
“Yeessss,” Elizabeth groaned. “Thaaat’s a good slut. Are you getting off on drinking your mother’s excitement?”  
  
The question sent a thrill of forbidden pleasure through Hermione, and she moved her tongue with more enthusiasm, looking for her mother’s clit with her tongue. A few seconds later she found it.  
  
“Oh, such a talented little cunt licker,” Elizabeth teased. “Such a shame I only get to use you during the summer.”  
  
Hermione felt utterly debased by the words she was hearing from her mother, but that was exactly what was exciting her so much. She could smell the pungent odor of her mother’s pussy juices consuming her entire awareness, and slipped her tongue further down towards her mother’s opening as she rubbed her own clit furiously.  
  
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, a sigh of contentment escaping her lips. “That’s where you came from. You’re… mmm… you’re licking the hole that brought you into this world.”  
  
The strong taboo of such a statement set off fireworks in Hermione’s mind, and she quickly realized she was going to have to be careful not to cum before her mother.  
  
A small shift in weight seemed to happen as Hermione continued using her mouth, and after a few seconds she realize that her mother was playing with her own breasts.  
  
_Tits,_ Hermione said it her mind. _Only crude language… for sluts…_  
  
Elizabeth let out a long moan, and she knew that it wouldn’t be long before she was cumming on her daughter’s face.  
  
“You know… what your father used to call me… in college?” Elizabeth asked, feeling the orgasm start to build. “Lizzie the Lezzy. You’re going to learn… to love eating this cunt… fuck!” Elizabeth felt herself begin to shake and pressed down hard into Hermione’s face, grinding herself with abandon.  
  
Hermione, who had already been on the edge, felt her own orgasm rip through her as her mother began to shake. This was not Hermione’s first orgasm, but it was the first while wearing a plug. As the orgasm began to happen, her ass clamped down on the unrelenting steel of the inserted device, and this caused her muscles to flex in a way she had never experienced before, extending and intensifying her orgasm.  
  
She lost most control of her body and began to shake, her eyes rolling slightly and her awareness shrinking. After some time, though Hermione couldn’t tell you how much time, she began to regain her bearings and realized that her mother was no longer on the bed.  
  
Looking to her left she saw her mother standing a few feet away, panting.  
  
“Good job, slut,” Elizabeth said in a breathy tone. “Put on some clothes and come down for dinner, but leave my slime all over your face. You’re going to wear that proudly around the house for the rest of the night.”  
  
And without waiting for Hermione to respond, Elizabeth turned and walked out, leaving a thoroughly content girl behind, basking in the lack of thought or concern that occupied her mind.  
  
**Author's Note:**  
  
If you’re interested, you’re welcome to join me on my Discord server:  
  
<https://discord.gg/TQ25x5u>


	3. Making A Mark

Chapter 3  
Making A Mark  
  
###  
  
Many things about what she had just experienced were eye-opening to Hermione. The most obvious was a much more intimate understanding of what being a slave truly meant. And a more intimate understanding of her mother, she thought with a light blush. Hermione had always felt compelled to excel however, and part of excelling was being proper.  
  
She had not truly understood how tiring it was to be ‘Little Miss Perfect’ all the time until just now, when her mother had so thoroughly degraded her. It had been humiliating, and debasing, and dehumanizing. And she had loved it.  
  
It was a queer sort of freedom that she felt. Not the kind of freedom where she could do anything she pleased, but the kind where she no longer was beholden to the rules of etiquette and decorum.  
  
_No one expects a slut to be proper,_ Hermione thought with a grin.  
  
From that one experience she was fairly certain that she enjoyed the feeling, and that was why being degraded and humiliated had thrilled her so much. Hermione being Hermione though, she didn’t do anything half-way, and had already looked into many of these aspects before. Intellectually she had thought that perhaps she might enjoy this kind of humiliation, but it didn’t necessarily go hand-in-hand with submission. Now she knew.  
  
She had never experienced pleasure that strong.  
  
Hermione thought back to some of the behaviors her mother had exhibited. She had been somewhat surprised at how aroused another woman had been able to make her, and she supposed after considering it for a few moments that this probably meant she was attracted to women sexually as well as men. This realization didn’t bother her at all, as her parents had never expressed any kind of prejudice against that kind of thing, but it did surprise her. Mostly in the way that it was something true about herself that she had never considered or realized before.  
  
She wondered for another few moments what other things were true about herself that she hadn’t considered yet.  
  
Focusing back on her experience however, she tried to catalog what other things she had learned.  
  
_Hesitation will be punished,_ she thought to herself with a grimace. _As well as that I’m a slut._  
  
“I’m a slut,” Hermione tried out with her voice. It felt different somehow, saying it under her breath when her mother wasn’t around, like she was speaking a truth out into the world that would come back to her and change reality. Could she really change things about her through simple repetition verbally?  
  
_Well yes, of course. There’s been numerous studies into conditioning and learned behaviors through repetition, particularly things like chants, prayers, and so on._  
  
Hermione glanced at her clock and her eyes widened. She’d been up here pondering for almost ten minutes since her mother had left!  
  
Throwing on her t-shirt and shorts once more, she rushed down the stairs, realizing all over again that her face was covered in her mother’s juices as the breeze created by her mad dash caused a cooling sensation over her face.  
  
Going in to the kitchen she saw her parents sitting at the table with their food, waiting. Her father looked bored, giving her a small smile, however her mother looked annoyed.  
  
“What took so long, slut?” Elizabeth asked.  
  
“I…” Hermione didn’t know exactly how to explain the delay. “I’m sorry.” A moment passed and Hermione’s eyes widened. “Mistress! I’m sorry, Mistress!”  
  
Elizabeth picked up the third plate that was clearly intended for her and set it on the floor.  
  
“Hesitation will be punished,” her mother said in a sing-song voice. “On all fours, now.” Hermione dropped to her hands and knees instantly. “Crawl to the plate. You may not use your hands to eat.”  
  
Hermione crawled forward, her face burning all over again. Of course her father _knew_ what was happening, but this was the first time she had been so humiliated directly in front of him. He watched her approach from his chair, the same small smile on his face.  
  
“I love the make-up you’re wearing,” Michael said with a chuckle. “It gives you a… health shine.”  
  
Hermione’s face burned brighter and she bent forward, occupying herself with trying to eat her dinner and not make too large a mess. As if reading her mind, Elizabeth spoke up.  
  
“Anything that gets on the floor you’re licking clean, slut.”  
  
“Yes, Mistress.”  
  
Being exceedingly careful, Hermione ended up eating rather slowly, but that didn’t seem to bother either of her parents as they talked with each other.  
  
“So, what have you found so far, pet?” Michael asked.  
  
“Slut gets off on being humiliated and degraded, that much is obvious,” Elizabeth answered as they ate. Hermione didn’t look up at them, her face still burning. “Fairly certain she swings both ways too since she was drinking my juices like water in a desert.”  
  
Hermione nearly choked on the food in her mouth and she could feel the gaze of both her parents turn at the noise.  
  
“She really is a humiliation slut though,” Elizabeth continued. Hermione could tell from the sound that her mother was saying it while looking at her. “She’s probably getting wet right now just from listening to us talk about it.”  
  
Hermione froze for a second, moving her focus to her body. Merlin, she was! Part of it was surely that plug, which she had gotten so used to that it was no longer affecting her motion. Though it was clearly still affecting her body in other ways, as she now realized the background stimulation it had been providing was keeping her at a baseline level of horny. But there was no denying that her body was responding to the humiliation she was experiencing right now.  
  
Michael chuckled after they watched Hermione’s reaction to the statement.  
  
“Yes, I think you’re right, pet. Interesting.” She heard her parents turn toward each other again and continue their conversation over dinner. “How do you think Harry fits in with that though? He’s the one that she’s really being trained for, you know. Will he be able to give her what she needs?”  
  
Hermione listened as a brief silence fell over the room, each of them finishing a bite of food. She heard her mother turn once more.  
  
“Slut, after you swallow that bite, look up and answer some questions.”  
  
Hermione hurried to chew and swallow the bite she’d been working on, looking up at her mother’s amused eyes.  
  
“Slut, hesitation while eating is not punished,” Elizabeth said softly. “Submitting is something you do, something you choose, because you enjoy it and it fulfills you. It satisfies a need inside you. You should never endanger yourself needlessly, even as a slave. Next time chew properly and take your time while eating.”  
  
“Yes, Mistress,” Hermione replied with some relief. They were still her parents, and still cared about her, although she supposed that shouldn’t have really been a question.  
  
“Good,” Elizabeth continued. “Now, you know Harry fairly well?”  
  
“Yes, Mistress,” Hermione replied promptly.  
  
“Do you think that he will be able to give you these kinds of things?”  
  
Hermione thought about her answer carefully.  
  
“I think… I think that he’s capable of doing so. I think he would probably even enjoy doing so. But I doubt he would know how to, or have the imagination to think of… some of the things that you have.” Hermione gave a small smile. “He’s a very intuitive and intelligent person, but he doesn’t have a lot of life experiences to draw on for that intuition or intelligence, and it sometimes limits his creativity. I also think it’s very likely he wouldn’t have ever thought about… this kind of arrangement. He might be scared of enjoying it, to be honest. But I very much think he should.  
  
“There’s so much in his life that is outside of his control, and so much of his suffering and stress originates out of that. I think that once he understands I’ll trust him to be in control unconditionally, it will lift a weight off his shoulders that he doesn’t even realize he’s carrying.”  
  
Both of her parents looked thoughtful at this reply, glancing at each other.  
  
“What part of the country does he live in?” Michael asked after a few moments.  
  
“Little Whinging, in Surrey,” she replied. A few more moments passed before Elizabeth motioned towards her plate.  
  
“Go ahead and finish your dinner, slut.”  
  
The rest of dinner passed in a relaxed manner, and her parents moved on to other topics, discussing their dental practice, the next time they needed to head to the market, and other mundane conversations that married couples often have over a good meal on a weekday. When Hermione finally felt she was finished with dinner she looked up at her mother and opened her mouth, before closing it again and furrowing her brow.  
  
She probably wasn’t exactly allowed to speak right now, especially to interrupt her parents. But then, what was she supposed to do?  
  
Her dilemma was short-lived however, as only moments later Elizabeth glanced over and Hermione caught her eye.  
  
“Are you finished with dinner slut?” she asked in a kind voice.  
  
“Yes, Mistress,” Hermione answered. Elizabeth got off her chair before kneeling down. Hermione’s eyes widened as she realized her mother was still wearing the skirt without panties, and as such Hermione had a perfect view of her mother’s most private areas. She realized quickly that her mother must be doing this on purpose, giving her a show, because her legs were unnecessarily spread. Hermione glanced at her father, his words coming back to her.  
  
_He said “I am always in charge”. That she does everything at his direction. Maybe he’s making her do this too?_  
  
“Let’s see if you made a mess,” Elizabeth said, picking up the plate. Hermione was relieved to see only a single piece of potato on the floor. “Eat it,” her mother said harshly, pointing.  
  
Hermione didn’t hesitate, leaning forward and snatching the food into her mouth, chewing quickly. Her mother continued to point at the same spot.  
  
“Lick it clean,” she commanded. Again, Hermione immediately leaned forward and gave the floor several licks. “Good girl,” Elizabeth told her, giving her another pat on the head. She was really starting to enjoy that warm fuzzy feeling.  
  
“Go to your room, undress, and play with your cunt,” Elizabeth told her. “Do not cum, and do not stop playing. I want you to drive yourself crazy until I get up there.”  
  
“Yes, Mistress,” Hermione said, turning and starting to crawl away. Her mother started laughing.  
  
“Good girl, following directions so well. You may walk there instead of crawl.”  
  
Hermione got to her feet and left the room.  
  
Elizabeth sat back down in her seat and turned to Michael.  
  
“What do you think, Master?” she asked.  
  
“I think that Harry’s living situation is probably less than ideal, pet,” Michael replied with a concerned look on his face. “From the details we got while Hermione was confessing to all her lies, it seems likely he is neglected by his relatives, or perhaps suffers some amount of abuse.” He sighed. “I actually agree with our girl that he’d probably benefit from having a willing, participating slave to own and control, and she seems to really love him, which is frankly terrifying to me.”  
  
“Yeah,” Elizabeth agreed slowly. “It is somewhat startling the depth of feeling she seems to have for him, but she’s always been mature for her age. I wonder if she realizes what she’s feeling?”  
  
“We can’t allow her to submit to him in this way if she doesn’t, she’s not making an informed choice if that’s the case,” Michael reasoned. “If she’s not making an informed choice, she’s not actually consenting properly, and that sets everything up for disaster. On top of that, from what I gather this boy is likely to need both some direction on how to engage in this lifestyle and some form of male role model.” Michael paused. “When Hermione was describing what happened this last year with the Sirius fellow, she implied that one of the reasons he was so important to Harry was that the boy didn’t have anyone to connect to in that way, which makes all of this more difficult.”  
  
“It sure seems like a lot of hurdles to overcome,” Elizabeth commented, “but then our little girl has never done things halfway.”  
  
Michael only hummed in response.  
  
“Should we continue with what we were planning before? For her training?” Elizabeth asked gently. “The preparation? If we’re not training and preparing her for him then we should probably adjust our plans.”  
  
Michael was quiet for a few moments before nodding his head.  
  
“Yes, continue with what we were planning, pet. Tomorrow while I’m at the practice I’ll start to look in to some of these things. At least for tonight and tomorrow morning we should press forward as we were thinking originally.” A thoughtful looked crossed his face. “Although, with your observations of her affinity for humiliation and degradation, perhaps you could push even harder tomorrow morning.” A mischievous smile spread across his features. “I have new instructions for your morning tomorrow, pet. Listen carefully.”  
  
Elizabeth sat up straight, the posture of decades of training moving her body automatically at his command.  
  
###  
  
Hermione was losing her mind, which a very distant and detached part of her knew would flabbergast her friends. She’d been in a state of torturous bliss for nearly half an hour now, having to very carefully direct her ministrations to maintain both of her Mistress’ contradictory commands.  
  
_Don’t stop playing,_ Hermione thought. _Don’t cum. PICK ONE!_  
  
She didn’t even really notice the noises she was making as she continually brought herself to the edge and back over and over. She was so caught up in her work, such as it was, that she didn’t notice her mother in the room until she spoke.  
  
“Enjoying yourself slut?”  
  
The sudden question startled Hermione so badly that she nearly fell over the edge into orgasm, which would have been a complete disaster right in front of her Mistress.  
  
“Y-Yes… Mistress…” Hermione responded is a shaky, strained voice.  
  
She opened her eyes and looked at her Mistress, her mother, and immediately noticed that her Mistress was sporting different apparel. Specifically, she was wearing a dildo in a strap-on harness that had to be at least six inches long. Hermione’s eyes widened in shock.  
  
_Surely…_  
  
“Point that cunt towards me and then continue playing with your knees near your head,” Elizabeth stated. With just a touch of worry, Hermione complied, reaching down and continuing to play circles on her clit as soon as she was repositioned. A few seconds later she felt the dildo pressed against her entrance, and her breath hitched, but it pushed no further.  
  
Looking up at her Mistress’ face confused, she tried to ask with her eyes what was happening. It seemed to work as her mother began to explain.  
  
“I’m planning to break your hymen, slut. A good slut, a good slave, has no need for one. It’s a hassle that just gets in the way of what Master wants.” Elizabeth held still though, despite Hermione’s anticipation. “Is that something you want to save for someone else? Does this cross a line?”  
  
Hermione took several seconds to really bring herself back into the moment, but the question was one she honestly hadn’t really thought about. Did she care?  
  
“I… I don’t th-think so, Mistress.”  
  
“That doesn’t sound very sure to me, slut,” Elizabeth said with a frown.  
  
“It’s…” Hermione frowned, slowing the circles on her clit slightly. “I-I think it would be just another th-thing that Harry-y would be confu-u-used about, or feel ina-adequate about.” Elizabeth stared at her, clearly wanting more. “It d-doesn’t matt-tter to me,” Hermione said. “My v-virginity isn’t-t my hymen… it’s the f-first time I g-give myself to someone I l-love.”  
  
At this explanation, Elizabeth nodded.  
  
“So then… you want your Mistress to stick this dildo inside that wet, tight cunt?”  
  
“Y-Yesss… Mistressss…” Hermione said, anticipation and desire coloring her speech.  
  
“Get yourself right up to the edge, slut. When you do, ask me to fuck you and push yourself over the edge. I’m going to break it while you are cumming.”  
  
Not exactly reassured, Hermione did as instructed, the trepidation building in her chest in equal measure to the orgasm building in her center. The process had been going on for so long though that it was less than a minute before Hermione felt it begin to happen. Shutting her eyes tight and tensing up, she felt the orgasm just begin to start.  
  
“Fuck me, Mistress!” she shouted. The reaction was instant, and her Mistress’ hips thrust forward as she fell over the edge, her vision blurring and her entire world going dim. Her senses retreated inward, as sensation became the only thing that defined her reality for a period of time. As she began to regain those senses, she slowly realized the her mother was still buried deep inside her cunt.  
  
Panting, and still seeing spots in her vision, she looked at her mother’s face, unaware of the goofy grin that her mother was seeing.  
  
“I’m going to pull out,” Elizabeth said slowly, knowing that her daughter was still recovering. “When I do, you’re going to clean my cock with your mouth. There may be a little blood from the hymen, but it’s not unsanitary or unsafe.”  
  
Hermione pondered for a moment how soft and nurturing her mother’s voice was, which seemed quite at odds with the fact that her mother was deep inside her, filling her up in a way that was indescribable.  
  
But Hermione felt her mother begin to pull out, and her brain jump-started back into action. As soon as it pulled out fully, she shifted her whole body forward and took the phallus into her mouth. This time she had been prompt in her actions more-so to stop herself from thinking about it than because she remembered the punishment for hesitation.  
  
Elizabeth gave a pleased hum, directing Hermione on how to properly clean a cock as she went. Over the next few minutes, a surreal kind of bonding experience occurred for Hermione as her mother taught her this skill with the same kind of attention and affection that a mother might teach their daughter to cook.  
  
Before Hermione had even realized it the dildo was clean, and she was pulled off by the hair gently.  
  
“Good girl,” Elizabeth said with the pat. Hermione beamed with pride. “Now, we are going to complete your punishment.”  
  
_Punishment? What…_   Hermione’s eyes widened. _The lashes!_  
  
She winced involuntarily. Elizabeth chuckled at seeing the response.  
  
“Yes, I’m sure this won’t be pleasant, slut.” Elizabeth reached down and began to remove the harness. “Since you were occupied, I placed a dildo on your desk when I walked in,” she continued. “After your lashes, you will push the dildo in your cunt and go to bed. Try to keep it in, but don’t worry if it pops out while you sleep. When you wake up just reinsert it. Do you understand?”  
  
“Yes, Mistress,” Hermione replied, glancing at the desk. The dildo was the exact same size as the one that had been in the harness.  
  
Elizabeth set the harness to the side and then pointed at the bed.  
  
“On your stomach, ass towards me, legs two feet apart.”  
  
Hermione, still reeling from what had happened and what was about to, glanced at the desk again, then her mother, before turning over and getting into position. Elizabeth made a noise behind her, and seemed to pull something from a bag.  
  
“Count them, slut. You’ll be receiving 25 lashes. That’s 20 for your punishment, and 5 for hesitating.”  
  
Hermione grimaced, realizing that she had indeed hesitated to get into position.  
  
“Hesitation will be punished,” Hermione parroted softly. She felt a pat of the back of her head.  
  
“Good girl.”  
  
Without any further warning the sound of something being swung rang through the air and a long, strappy sort of device landed on her bare ass with devastating effect. The pain was so sudden, and so much worse than any kind of punishment she had received before, that she nearly fell off the bed.  
  
Hermione was sure that the neighbors had heard the scream she’d let out. A few moments passed. Hermione heard another swing and her world erupted in stinging pain again. Her mother tsked behind her.  
  
“The lashes start counting once you start counting them,” Elizabeth said in a stern voice, swinging again.  
  
Hermione yelped, before shouting “Three!”  
  
Immediately the… belt? Whatever it was struck her again and her Mistress spoke.  
  
“I knew you were a pathetic slut and dirty slut, but I didn’t think you were a stupid slut. Since when do numbers start at three?”  
  
Again the implement flew through the air and struck her.  
  
“One!” Hermione cried out through the pain. Another strike. “Two!”  
  
As she passed 15 in her count, Hermione realized that the sensations had changed. It hadn’t become pleasurable, it was still quite the opposite. But her ass now felt like it was on fire even after being struck, and the strikes themselves didn’t feel quite as sharp, as if she was becoming slightly numb, trading the impact for a more lasting kind of pain that seemed to sit in her skin like an infection.  
  
By the time they got to 21 Hermione couldn’t keep herself still, and was openly crying the kind of full, unabashed tears she hadn’t since she was a small child.  
  
After counting off the 25th strike, Hermione collapsed off the bed in a heap, twitching from the remembered sensations.  
  
“Now,” Elizabeth said softly. “Will you lie to us again slut?”  
  
“NOOO!” Hermione wailed. Elizabeth sighed, reached down, and wrenched one of Hermione’s nipples.  
  
“No _what_ slut?”  
  
Hermione let out a fresh gasp.  
  
“N-No… Mistress…”  
  
Her sniffling was making it difficult to talk more than one word at a time. Her mother’s stern face held for a few moments before it softened and she held out her arms to her shaking daughter.  
  
“Come here, sweetie.”  
  
Hermione flung herself at her mother, muttering apologies over and over between gasped breaths. After twenty minutes in her mother’s embrace, Hermione had calmed down to the point where she could think rationally again.  
  
“Mot—Mistress?” Hermione asked, hoping she wouldn’t be punished for her slip up. There was a slight pause.  
  
“Yes slut?”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Hermione felt her mother’s arms tighten around her for a few more seconds before releasing her.  
  
“Don’t forget the dildo slut,” Elizabeth whispered before grabbing the bag of supplies she’d brought into the room and walking out.  
  
**Author's Note:**   
  
If you’re interested, you’re welcome to join me on my Discord server:  
  
<https://discord.gg/TQ25x5u>


	4. What You Were Meant To Be

Chapter 4  
What You Were Meant To Be  
  
###  
  
Hermione awoke with a groan earlier than she was used to, but according to her alarm not quite as early as her parents. She lay there for several minutes, trying to not to move.  
  
Her arms were sore from the exertions she went through yesterday; her ass was aching fiercely, and she knew that she would need to sit gingerly the entire day; to add to that her asshole was protesting loudly as well, having kept the plug in for the entire night; her nipples ached from being tweaked several times last night, the lesson to not hesitate certainly sinking in at this point; and even her cunt was hurting, feeling a bit raw and stretched.  
  
Her eyes widened as she realized that the dildo had slipped out. Mistress had told her to put it back in when she woke up.  
  
Reaching down she found the silicone cock and pressed against her entrance, but found herself far too dry to push it in comfortably. She started to move her hand to start playing with her clit and get herself wet, before she remembered what her dad had told her. She needed permission to touch.  
  
_My body is someone else’s property now, I can’t use it without permission._  
  
At a loss for a moment she pulled the dildo up towards her chest and realized that she could still use her mouth to wet it. Pulling it up further she noticed the sticky and tacky remnants of her cunt coating parts of the dildo. But, then again, last night she’d had much more than just that in her mouth when she’d cleaned the other one off.  
  
Pushing it past her lips she started to replay the lesson Mistress gave her last night on how to clean a cock, practicing once more on the dildo she needed to put back inside her. After a few minutes she felt it was properly cleaned and prepared, and reaching down spread her cunt lips apart, pushing the dildo in inch by inch.  
  
The sensation of being so full in both holes was amazing, but also very foreign. She furrowed her brows in annoyance as she realized that the dildo was going to slip out as soon as she moved her hand away. How was she going to go downstairs? She cast about the room before deciding that she could keep it in using the shorts she wore last night if she were careful.  
  
After a few minutes of careful work she was dressed and felt reasonably sure the dildo would survive the trip downstairs. She needed to find Mistress and ask her to remove the plug so that she could use the restroom. Walking towards her door, Hermione stopped after only a few paces, trying to adjust to the difficulty of walking in this situation. Every step she took send a minor jolt through her as both the plug and the dildo rubbed against her insides and each other in the most… stimulating ways.  
  
Taking each step gingerly, and finding herself breathing heavy by the time she was at the bottom of the stairs, she spotted Mistress in the dining room.  
  
“Good morning, slut,” Elizabeth greeted her.  
  
“Good morning, Mistress,” Hermione replied, shifting again uncomfortably. “Can you please remove the plug Mistress? I need to use the restroom.”  
  
Elizabeth looked up at her daughter for a moment and then gestured to the empty table.  
  
“On your back, then.”  
  
Hermione paused in surprise at the realization that Mistress was going to take it out right here only a few paces from the front door, and then cringed internally as she began to climb on the table, knowing what was going to happen. She had _paused_.  
  
Once she was on her back, Mistress lifted her shirt, grabbed _both_ nipples, one with each hand, and tweaked them hard.  
  
“Hesitation will be punished,” Mistress reminded her.  
  
“Yes, Mistress,” Hermione agreed, her voice low with discomfort.  
  
“Lift your ass up,” Elizabeth told her. Hermione complied quickly, and her mother reached for the hem. She must have noticed the odd pressure of the dildo against the shorts, because she used one hand to keep it in as the other removed the shorts. “Knees by your head.”  
  
Hermione pulled her knees back and held them with her hands, giving her mother perfect access to her holes. Elizabeth pulled the dildo out in one swift motion, causing Hermione to shudder in pleasure and surprise.  
  
“Open your mouth wide,” Elizabeth said. As soon as Hermione did, her Mistress shoved the slimy dildo into her mouth like it was a convenient holster while she needed both hands. Reaching towards Hermione’s red and splotchy ass, Elizabeth slowly but surely pulled out the plug, setting it on a hand towel next to the girl.  
  
After starting her shorts back up her legs, Elizabeth reached up and yanked the dildo out of Hermione’s mouth, making sure to replace it exactly as it had been. A small moan escaped Hermione’s mouth as it was shoved back in, and shortly after her shorts were back on.  
  
“Go use the bathroom,” Elizabeth said, pointing to the downstairs one. “Don’t close the door, sluts don’t get privacy.”  
  
Blushing furiously, Hermione quickly dismounted from the table and went to take care of her business. While leaving the door open felt just… _wrong_ … it wasn’t long before she was finished and returned to her mother in the dining room. While she’d been relieving herself Elizabeth had cleaned the plug and re-applied lube to it.  
  
In a process much like the one she’d just experienced only in reverse, the plug was inserted once more, and Hermione climbed off the table, unsure of what came next. Her mother motioned to one of the chairs and sat down in the seat across from it.  
  
“Before we get in to our day slut, we have to talk about something new that I’m sure you’ve read about before. Limits.” Her mother’s voice was very kind and soft, not at all the voice she had been using to command Hermione. “Every person who engages in this type of behavior has the right to set limits if they wish on particular activities or situations that they are not willing to endure. Some people do engage without any stated limits, and in those cases a safeword often works well. Are you familiar with what a safeword is slut?”  
  
“Yes, Mistress.”  
  
“Good. You have no real experience in these types of activities, and because of that it’s very likely that you don’t know what you enjoy. Instead of using safewords, we are going to use conversation. When we are going to do something new I will always explain to you beforehand what it is that will happen. Once I have explained, if it crosses a limit of yours, you should tell me so.” Elizabeth paused. “Limits are very tricky things. I would always encourage you to try something at least once if you’re unsure, because there is a lot of truth to the idea that you won’t know until you try. At the same time however, many submissives feel guilty about expressing a limit, and that’s not okay either because it means that they aren’t fully consenting to what’s happening. Do you understand?”  
  
Unlike the previous times she’d been asked if she understood by Elizabeth since she’d become Hermione’s Mistress, this question was asked with an understanding tone instead of a demanding one.  
  
“Yes, Mistress.”  
  
“I didn’t explain this to you last night because the few things we did last night were so standard and mild, the introductory activities, that if you had a limit for them the lifestyle would probably simply not be for you at all, and that isn’t what I saw in my daughter.”  
  
Hermione’s heart fluttered at that. So much context surrounded that statement. Her mother had called her nothing but slut since last night, and being referred to as her daughter gave Hermione a comfort she hadn’t realized she was missing that her parent could still be a mother when needed. Discussion about consent certainly qualified for that sort of conversation, she reasoned.  
  
“All the same,” Elizabeth continued, “I’ll ask you now. Were any of your limits crossed last night?”  
  
Hermione was silent for several seconds. Most of the things that had happened last night had been uncomfortable in at least one way, and the lashes had been excruciating, but… nothing had happened that had truly scared her, or repulsed her. She knew from her own research that for most people, limits weren’t about what was uncomfortable, they were about what was intolerable, and she wouldn’t describe anything from last night that way.  
  
“No, Mistress.”  
  
The look of mild concern that had briefly graced Elizabeth’s face washed away and a warm smile replaced it.  
  
“Brilliant. Now again, different people treat limits differently. The most lax you are with your limits, the more potential you have for exciting experiences, but you also run the risk of having a truly negative experience. The more strict and conservative you are with your limits, the more likely you are to enjoy what happens at least a little, but the potential for how much you enjoy it is probably reduced.  
  
“Now the only other thing I will say in regards to limits is how I treat my own. I do something that is very rare: I don’t set any with your father. I trust him completely. It has led to some experiments that I truly detested, but even afterward I never set a limit. Instead I told him how it made me feel and trusted him to not make me endure those things again on a whim. Only a few times in the two decades we have been together has he had me do something that I had told him I felt this way about, and in each case there was a very specific purpose in doing so and I decided to trust his judgment and simply have a miserable night one more time.  
  
“Sometimes that happens when you get as adventurous as we do, but what I really want, and always wanted, was to be fully and completely owned by your father. Nothing less would do. Those nights where we did something that I already knew I hated were always awful for me, and for a day or so I always felt some resentment, but in twenty years I’ve had less of them than I have fingers on my hands. For me, if I had said no to them, it would have destroyed the much larger dynamic of me being his utter and complete slave, and that is something that I absolutely desire with all my being.”  
  
Elizabeth looked at Hermione for a few moments, then looked away for a second as if searching for something before returning her gaze and finishing her explanation.  
  
“How you set your limits is up to you, and you most certainly do not have to set them the way that I do. In fact, I don’t think you should with me as your Mistress, because I am not going to be your partner for the rest of your life.” She smirked slightly at that. “That kind of total power exchange isn’t really viable in a situation that has an expiration date. But I want you to… try and find that Gryffindor courage, and if you can, give most things at least one try as long as they are safe and sane activities.”  
  
“Safe, sane, consensual,” Hermione said softly, causing a brilliant grin to light up Elizabeth’s face.  
  
“I see you still remember the explanation we gave you several years ago in regards to submission.”  
  
Hermione nodded. This conversation about limits had made her much more comfortable with enjoying the things that were happening, and helped her better understand what things she still had control over.  
  
_Consent,_ Hermione thought. _No matter what, I always have control over what I choose to consent to. Even with mum and dad, she consents to do things against her will consciously, things she would absolutely avoid._  
  
“Mistress,” Hermione started, a question beginning to form in her mind. “Why did you want to have this conversation now?”  
  
“Ah,” Elizabeth said, glancing away. “How did you react to the humiliation, degradation, and disgust elements last night slut?” She asked, a hint of the edge returning to her tone.  
  
Hermione thought before answering. Collecting her full thoughts before answering was already a positive change that this lifestyle seemed to be training in to her.  
  
“They made me very excited, and also ashamed in some ways, but then even the shame made me more excited. I don’t quite understand it.”  
  
“I see,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “That’s not uncommon actually. Do you think you would have enjoyed going even further?”  
  
Hermione thought to the things her mother had said to her, of eating from the floor, of cleaning the dildo that had been dirtied in her cunt with her mouth.  
  
“Yes, Mistress,” Hermione replied softly, a hint of her embarrassment returning.  
  
“This morning we’re going to do something that many people have a limit for, but it will help you understand how deeply you do or don’t enjoy those aspects of submission. If you absolutely do not want to, we will skip this activity, but I want you to think carefully before you decide to set this as a limit, speaking as someone who only discovered my enjoyment for it after giving up on limits completely.”  
  
Hermione felt somewhat nervous at this preamble, but nodded for her mother to continue.  
  
“In preparation for this activity I’ve made sure to have a full bladder, because we will be testing watersports. Are you familiar with what that is?”  
  
Oh God, how could she admit to her mother that she knew what that was? Just knowing what it was at her age would reveal some things to the intelligent woman. Unable to form words she felt her face become more and more red and finally buried her face in her hands, nodding.  
  
Was she really going to do this? She went over the conversation she’d just had with her mother about limits. This was… well, it was pretty heavy for morning number one she felt. All the same, she had so thoroughly enjoyed the humiliation, degradation, and disgust elements last night that even through her embarrassment she had to allow for the idea that she might enjoy it.  
  
“Will…” Hermione squeaked before clearing her throat and starting over, face still in her hands. “Will this be… a… golden shower? Or… drinking… Mistress?”  
  
A sharp laugh from her mother only furthered her emotional discomfort, and she looked up to see the look of purest amusement on her mother’s face.  
  
“We will try both,” she replied simply.  
  
“And… you’ve done this?” Hermione asked. “You _enjoy_ this?”  
  
Elizabeth’s face lost most of its humor and her voice became much more hard.  
  
“Yes I have tried it, and yes I enjoy it, and I will not allow my own dirty slut to kink-shame me over it.” Elizabeth’s features relaxed slightly. “If you want to place a limit on this you can do so without expressing disapproval for your mother and your Mistress’ preferences.”  
  
“No!” Hermione shouted, her embarrassment evaporating. “No… Mistress. That isn’t… that isn’t what I meant. I don’t disapprove, I just… needed to hear that if I do end up enjoying it… I won’t be alone.”  
  
Elizabeth smiled.  
  
“So then, you consent slut?”  
  
Hermione paused one last time before steeling her resolve and nodding.  
  
“Yes, Mistress.”  
  
“Good girl,” Elizabeth said with a pat. “Go up to the shower, strip off your clothes, and sit down in the tub. You may place the dildo in the sink while we do this since it will probably be too much of a hassle to deal with while squatting.”  
  
Hermione nodded and stood, heading for the stairs. Within a few minutes she was in the tub as instructed, waiting nervously. Would she enjoy this? Did it mean anything about her if she did?  
  
The real question, she realized, was would she like the person that she was if it was something she enjoyed. It didn’t hurt anyone, it wasn’t something that would take away from any of the other things about her really… it would just be a new thing. A _different_ thing to be sure, but a new one.  
  
This is the thought she repeated to herself as she waited, because a part of her was pretty sure that she would at least enjoy it a little. She could think of very few things more degrading or humiliating or disgusting than what she was about to try, and those feelings had been what she enjoyed most about the previous evening.  
  
Her attention snapped to the door as she heard her mother… no, her _Mistress_ , approaching. When she entered she was fully nude, just like Hermione, and for a moment the younger woman had to admire the simple but elegant beauty that the woman before her possessed. She was somewhat envious of her Mistress’ fuller breasts—tits, she corrected mentally—but everything about her seemed to fit together so perfectly into something Hermione aspired to be physically. Would she someday have this same simple beauty? She hoped so.  
  
Elizabeth stepped into the tub and stood over Hermione, lining up her cunt with the younger girl’s face.  
  
“Open your mouth and close your eyes,” she commanded, and Hermione did so. “I’m going to give you one mouthful and you must swallow it. I will hold the rest until you do. After you swallow, keep your mouth closed if that isn’t for you while I give you a shower.”  
  
Hermione was about to respond in the affirmative when something hot, wet, and salty began to stream into her mouth. The flavor was… repulsive. But as the seconds ticked and her mouth became more full, she realized that was largely because of how salty it was. It actually seemed like slightly smelly warmed up saltwater. Which, granted, was disgusting enough on its own, but not quite the stomach turning flavor she had half expected.  
  
Before she could think further she felt the stream cut.  
  
“Swallow, slut.”  
  
She closed her mouth and did. Merlin, the _feelings_ it caused.  
  
_Fuck,_ Hermione thought, her mind not filtering the language at all. _I do like this. It is SO humiliating and degrading… and I love that._  
  
Feeling the last gulp go down she opened her mouth again without too much thought and the stream started again, this time moving around. It splashed into her mouth, and across her nose and cheeks. It painted her tits, and ran down her stomach. This was just as humiliating and degrading, but in a slightly different way.  
  
After several more seconds, the stream ended and Hermione swallowed what had splashed into her mouth the second time. She felt a pat on her head, and felt the pride swell within her.  
  
“Take your morning shower and wash up, then come downstairs and we’ll talk about what you think.”  
  
Hermione heard her Mistress step out of the tub, cross the room, and walk out the door, leaving it open. She sat there for several seconds, reveling in the warm and sticky feeling all over her body, then slowly stood up and began to wash off.  
  
###  
  
Hermione reached the bottom of the stairs feeling clean and accomplished. She’d been so anxious about doing this, what it would say about her and how she would react, but she’d done it. And she’d enjoyed it. And that was okay.  
  
As she’d descended the stairs she’d realized that she might have just as easily not have enjoyed it, and that would also have been okay.  
  
She went to the living room where her mother was sitting on the couch reading a book and sat down in the recliner next to her. Elizabeth looked up at Hermione with an encouraging expression.  
  
“Well slut, tell me what your thoughts are.”  
  
Hermione couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her lips.  
  
“I… enjoyed it, Mistress.”  
  
“I see,” Elizabeth said smiling. “How so?”  
  
“It was so degrading and humiliating and that… well, it got me going very much,” she explained. “The taste was not pleasant, but in a way that was part of it. Like… like that’s how dirty and how desperate of a slut I am, that I’m willing to endure something unpleasant as long as it’s sufficiently humiliating to get me off.”  
  
“Good girl,” Elizabeth said earnestly, too far away to give her the customary pat on the head as well. “That’s because sluts think with their cunt.” Elizabeth let out a short laugh at her own joke, and it even brought a grin to Hermione’s face.  
  
“Thank you, Mistress,” Hermione said earnestly. “For being patient with me, and for helping me work my way through all of that.”  
  
“Of course,” Elizabeth replied warmly. “That’s why I get to do the thinking, and you get to be the filthy slut.”  
  
For some reason that phrasing really struck a chord inside Hermione, and tears began to well up in her eyes. That was it. That was all that was expected of her right now. No grades, no fights with Voldemort, no saving her friend’s lives. Just be a slut. That’s all. Nothing more.  
  
It was so liberating.  
  
“This will be part of your morning from now on then slut,” Elizabeth said. “I’ll empty my bladder then you’ll curl up and empty your own. It’ll help you start the day in the right mindset.”  
  
Hermione nodded, thinking that perhaps her mother was speaking from some experience at that.  
  
“Now,” Elizabeth said. “I think that’s enough for now. Go upstairs and work on your summer homework. We’ll move on to your next lesson after lunch.”  
  
“Yes, Mistress.”  
  
Hermione stood and walked towards her room, a relief and lightness to her that she hadn’t ever had before.  
  
Finally able to focus on her work, Hermione began to go through her assignments one after the other, the time seeming to fly by, until she heard her mother call up the stairs for lunch.  
  
A few sandwiches and some rather casual mother-daughter conversation later, Hermione took advantage of a lull in the conversation to press forward.  
  
“So, Mistress,” she began, a large smile on her face, “what are your next instructions?”  
  
Hermione swore that her mother’s eyes started to get watery as she also smiled at the question.  
  
“Do you think you’ve been a good slut?” Elizabeth asked lightly.  
  
Hermione paused, taking a moment to decide that her Mistress was not asking a trick or rhetorical question, she genuinely wanted to know what Hermione thought.  
  
“Yes, Mistress,” Hermione replied with enthusiasm. “My cunt and ass are full, like a good slut; I’ve been getting better at not hesitating, like a good slut; and I helped my Mistress empty her bladder, like a good slut.”  
  
Elizabeth nodded.  
  
“So you have. As a reward, this afternoon I’m going to teach you how to have the most powerful orgasm you can.” She paused and thought for a moment. “Or at least, the most powerful orgasm that _I_ can.”  
  
She reached into the supply bag next to her and pulled out a small, egg shaped device. Hermione instantly recognized it, a bit underwhelmed.  
  
“The secret to the most powerful orgasm is just… vibrators?”  
  
“No, slut,” Elizabeth replied a bit harder, conveying that their roles were now in full effect. “The secret to the most powerful orgasm is _edging_. Take off all your clothes, take the dildo out of your cunt and put it in your mouth, then sit down on the recliner in the living room with your legs spread.”  
  
Hermione started to comply right away, realizing as she did so that this would give anyone with a clear look through the window a _very_ interesting view.  
  
Once Hermione was in place, Elizabeth handed her the egg and showed her where the switch was.  
  
“The key to edging is to bring yourself to the edge of orgasm and then back away, that’s how it gets its name. You did this for a short time last night, but you’re not going to be allowed out of that chair today until you’ve been edging for three hours.”  
  
Hermione knew that if her mouth hadn’t been filled with silicone cock she would have made quite the startled noise.  
  
“Unlike last night, you are allowed to completely stop for short periods, but if I think you are being lazy about edging, you won’t be allowed to cum until tomorrow. Do you understand?”  
  
Hermione simply nodded, her eyes wide in abject fear.  
  
Elizabeth nodded, then motioned for Hermione to begin. Turning on the vibrator to its lowest setting and placing it near her clit, Hermione knew within only a few minutes that this was going to be much more difficult mentally than the watersports had been.  
  
_This better be fucking worth it._  
  
It took only 10 minutes for Hermione’s awareness to shrink to almost nothing but the perverse cycle of pleasure and denial that her body was going through. Seconds and minutes seemed to interchange freely and time didn’t appear to be following a regular flow any more. After some undetermined period of time, Hermione began to go in and out of lucidity, and every time she came back to herself she wondered if her Mistress had talked to her while she was… away.  
  
At some point her Mistress had left the living room, probably working in the kitchen from the vague sounds she was processing, leaving her slut of a daughter to monopolize the space for her moans, her twitches, her whimpers, and her grunts of frustration. Knowing that she wasn’t fully keeping track of her surroundings, she vaguely wondered in one of her lucid moments whether or not anyone had been fortunate enough to look through the window.  
  
As that lucidity passed however, she found that she didn’t really care, unless that person made themselves useful and came in their house to finish her off.  
  
“…ut.” A noise to her left. “Slut!” A hard sting across her face grabbed her focus as she realized that her Mistress had slapped her to get her attention.  
  
“How much… more…?” she grunted.  
  
“Enough time has passed.” She watched as her Mistress reached down to the recliner below her ass and wiped her hand. It came back up glistening. Was that… her juices? Was she… sitting and writhing in a pool of her own _need_!?  
  
Mistress reached up and wiped her wet hand off on Hermione’s face before giving her a pat on the head that also let her wipe off the last of the juice.  
  
“You’re going to cum on my cock you little fucking whore,” Elizabeth said, her tone diamond hard. She gestured towards her waist where Hermione only now realized the strap-on was once more positioned. “But not before you beg.”  
  
Hermione didn’t hesitate for a moment.  
  
“Please Mistress! PLEASE! Your filthy, pathetic slut needs to cum so badly.” Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose for a moment in surprise. Talking in the third person? She was so far gone that her speech was disassociating. “Slut isn’t sure… how long she’ll be able to make words…”  
  
An expression of pure joy bloomed over Elizabeth. She grabbed Hermione’s legs, lined up the dildo, and began absolutely pounding her daughter. Hermione completely lost control over her body at the sudden spike in sensation, the vibrator still pressed firmly against her clit, and it was mere seconds before Hermione simply exploded. The rushing sensation was unlike anything she’d ever felt before, and her cunt constricted in a way she wasn’t familiar with, and then she briefly lost consciousness.  
  
She learned from her Mistress later that she’d given a fierce scream of pure ecstasy and sprayed squirt all over as she came.  
  
The lapse into unconsciousness was only for a few seconds, and when Hermione came back, she felt herself slowly sliding off the recliner, her muscles too unresponsive to properly fight the motion. As she slid she felt her entire backside go through the pool of her juices and get coated, which only made her more slick and easier to slide off.  
  
She fell off the chair onto the floor, twitching uncontrollably, and as her awareness returned more and more she realized that her face hurt. She’d been smiling so widely that it was making her facial muscles ache.  
  
About a minute later, Elizabeth finally spoke up.  
  
“You made a mess, slut,” she commented. Hermione looked up, a goofy expression still on her face without her control. Elizabeth motioned to the front of her body which was still dripping with Hermione’s explosion. “Lick me clean.”  
  
Hermione responded to the command immediately, although it took her body a few tries to respond also.  
  
Sticking out her tongue she ran it over her Mistress’ body anywhere she saw the sweet, musky liquid that reminded her of happiness. After a while, she heard Mistress’ voice again.  
  
“You’ve finished cleaning me slut, now clean the floor.”  
  
Again Hermione responded immediately, this time with the agreement of her body. She was vaguely aware that Mistress was just standing there watching her, but that only made her feel more happy. After a few minutes, Mistress spoke again.  
  
“Go upstairs, crawl into your bed, and go to sleep slut,” Mistress commanded gently. “You’ve had a long day, and a large lunch. We’ll just make you are large breakfast tomorrow morning after we take care of our bladders.”  
  
Hermione nodded dumbly, and vaguely wondered to herself if the thick, goofy expression on her face would ever go away. She wondered that right up until her head hit the pillow, and she lost consciousness again, this time for the rest of the night.  
  
###  
  
Michael glanced at the clock in his office and noted that it was just after lunch.  
  
_Liz should be starting Hermione on her edging session right about now,_ he thought. He’d cleared his afternoon appointments. Elizabeth had planned on setting Hermione up in the living room for her session today, which had lined up well. They had already planned on him staying late at work, but it wasn’t because of dental appointments for once, and it wasn’t because of his daughter. Instead it was a research project that only his standing as a medical professional allowed.  
  
_Strictly speaking,_ he thought, _what I’m about to do isn’t exactly… legal._  
  
But it was the right thing to do, and that’s what had always driven Michael.  
  
Pulling up an application on his terminal, he began to type in commands. A lot of this stuff had become much easier when Windows 3.2 had been released last year, opening up the possibility to sift through a much larger number of files than would otherwise be reasonable.  
  
Frustratingly, the promise of this new level of technology didn’t deliver anything for several hours.  
  
_Have they just never taken Harry to any doctors? How is that possible?_  
  
Giving up on the computer route, Michael pulled up his phone and began to make calls to various facilities in the Surrey area. Some of the places he called had refused to answer his questions or release any information to him without an explanation that went beyond his own credentials. It was what they were supposed to do, and it was a good thing that’s how they reacted, but it was frustrating for the mission he was trying to accomplish.  
  
_All I need is one medical file with his address_.  
  
As is always the case, he finally got results from the last place he contacted.  
  
_Of course it’s the last place I contacted,_ he thought grumpily. _Why would I keep looking if I’ve already found it?_  
  
The front office had been manned by an under-trained intern that probably wasn’t paid enough. The clinic was one of the frighteningly cheap options that NHS ran, meant mainly to shuffle the poor through one door and out the other while convincing them that they didn’t qualify for or didn’t need treatment.  
  
_Thank you, Margret Thatcher,_ he thought with some disgust.  
  
A few answered questions and the fax of Harry Potter’s complete medical history on file there was appearing in his office. He’d been looking for something that listed the boys address, but as sheet after sheet came through his fax machine, Michael’s focus shifted more and more to the medical information instead of the location of his target.  
  
_Well, change of plans then. I’m getting that boy out regardless of the question of his suitability to claim my daughter._ Even as a Dom that had been practicing for over two decades, the reality that he’d just had the thought he did made him shudder. _This whole thing is quite surreal. Hopefully Liz wore Hermione out, and we can plan out how to approach the Harry situation together this evening.  
_  
A thought entered his mind that perked up his attitude quite significantly.  
  
_Hmmm… if Hermione is out cold like I expect, then perhaps I’ll have some time alone with my pet._  
  
**Author's Note:**  
  
If you’re interested, you’re welcome to join me on my Discord server:  
  
<https://discord.gg/TQ25x5u>


	5. All In The Family

Chapter 5  
All In The Family  
  
###  
  
Harry sighed as he flopped down onto his bed. His prison term with the Dursley’s was just beginning, and he had little to look forward to until he was picked up by someone, usually the Weasley family. Glancing around his room, Harry grinned. It was certainly better than it could have been though, the vague threat of having a mass-murdering godfather had stopped the Dursley’s from making his life quite as miserable as they had before, and that was why he’d been allowed to bring his trunk and all his things up to his room instead of having it locked underneath the stairs.  
  
Even that though wasn’t enough to quench the pain he felt every time his mind drifted to how close he’d come to having a family. If not for Snape, or for the moon, or for Peter… he could be living with Sirius right now. He’d never have to come back. It had been so close he could nearly taste it, and he’d done something he hadn’t allowed himself to do in a very long time: hope.  
  
Perhaps that’s why it had been so much more wrenching this time when his desires were trampled.  
  
Harry sighed again, knowing that it being his first day back wouldn’t excuse him the chores that Aunt Petunia expected of him. He pulled himself out of bed and left his room to go tend to the plants outside the house.  
  
It had only been a few hours since he’d last seen them, but as he worked he wondered what they were doing. Ron was likely explaining to his parents why he’d lost his pet rat and gotten an owl of his own in much greater detail now that he was home. Harry shuddered thinking about the fact that Peter had been sleeping in the same dorm for the last three years. It was disgusting, and terrified him in a very different way than facing the Basilisk had.  
  
“Boy! You better be finished with those roses! It’s time for you to get inside and make dinner!”  
  
Harry rolled his eyes at Uncle Vernon’s demand. It seemed that being back in his own familiar home had given him back some of the confidence learning of Harry’s godfather had taken away at the train station, and he expected that other than avoiding a situation like the summer after his first year, this summer wouldn’t be much different.  
  
Standing and taking off his gloves, Harry walked back into the house making sure his feet were clean and not tracking dirt onto Aunt Petunia’s perpetually clean floors. He found her in the kitchen finishing making some lemonade, though the expression on her face made him think that maybe she had accidentally eaten one of the lemons instead.  
  
Pulling out a few pans and opening the fridge, Harry began to prepare dinner as he had been doing for years.  
  
###  
  
Michael pulled out his keys and unlocked the front door, papers clutched in his other hand. He couldn’t leave Harry’s file at work where someone in the office may have found it considering that he wasn’t supposed to have it at all. Walking in the door and wiping his feet he glanced to the right into the dining room and saw Elizabeth sitting expectantly, dinner waiting for him on the table. He’d called ahead to make sure she knew what time he would be home.  
  
Looking over to his left into the living room, he inspected the recliner and the floor around it. Everything looked normal to him, meaning that Elizabeth must have cleaned up whatever mess had occurred as instructed.  
  
“How was your day, pet?” he asked, sitting down in front of his plate. Her hands were in her lap as she waited for him to begin eating.  
  
“Today went well, Master,” she replied, her eyes now looking down at the table. “Everything went as you instructed. Hermione is asleep in her bed, exhausted from the day.”  
  
Michael hummed for a moment as he chewed a bit of food.  
  
“You may start eating dinner, pet,” he said distractedly. She picked up her utensils and began to eat with him. “So the gamble this morning worked out then?”  
  
Elizabeth finished chewing the food in her mouth before answering.  
  
“Yes, Master. I had the discussion with her about limits and consent. She was very unsure and anxious about it, but decided in the end to try at least once.” Elizabeth took another bite, waiting for Michael’s next question.  
  
“So then will that be a regular occurrence, or has she found a limit for herself?”  
  
“She enjoyed it, Master, and will be having a morning drink each day.”  
  
“I see,” Michael said, still mostly thinking about what he’d learned about Harry’s life today at work. “You will need to make sure you have a full glass of water every morning then as soon as you get up.”  
  
“Yes, Master.”  
  
For a while they both just ate their dinner, but Elizabeth was starting to become worried. She was allowed to speak when they were alone if she had something he needed to know, but she knew from experience that he would only tell her what he decided she would know. She could ask, she was _always_ allowed to ask. She could even explain why she thought she should know, but like all other things it was ultimately his decision.  
  
“I was able to get Harry’s information,” Michael finally said, breaking the silence. “It makes me… worried.”  
  
Elizabeth instantly fell back into her role as a professional trying to care for a patient.  
  
“Abuse?”  
  
“Maybe,” Michael replied hesitantly. “Not really many of the things you’d expect to see if that were a large problem. No phantom broken bones, or mysterious healed ones in x-rays that had never been reported broken before. No unexplained bruising.”  
  
“Then what has you worried?” Elizabeth asked confused.  
  
“He does seem to get injured frequently, but from the injuries I think it’s likely his peers or his cousin that inflict the damage. Perhaps both. When you look at the whole medical history all at once though, it paints the picture of a boy who no one actually cares for. He has obvious symptoms of long-term malnourishment as a child, he’s about four inches too short for the structure of his femur, and he gets minor illnesses more frequently that you would expect.  
  
“Of the injuries he does get they seem to be poorly cared for, and heal much slower than normal. I think that’s probably because he doesn’t rest the injuries when he has them, based on the information in the file.” Michael paused. “I don’t… I don’t think that his Aunt and Uncle physically abuse him much, or at least if they do it doesn’t tend to go much farther than the average physical discipline some children receive. But it seems obvious that he is neglected, and that they care for him very little. It’s like…” Michael took another bite and chewed, thinking of how to adequately describe his concerns. “It’s like the way you might treat a sweater you borrow and forget to return. To them he’s something that is someone else’s problem, and they are merely in possession of him for now.”  
  
Elizabeth frowned.  
  
“Then he might not have too many problems physically,” she added, “but it might have affected him much more mentally.”  
  
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Michael agreed. Elizabeth furrowed her brows.  
  
“But then, that will make what we were discussing this morning much more difficult,” she stated, knowing he must have already considered this.  
  
“Yes, it will.”  
  
Another period of silence passed as they both finished dinner, contemplating the problem.  
  
“I think I have a plan,” Michael finally said after their plates were cleared. Elizabeth nodded for him to continue. “Tomorrow I will visit his house and talk to him as well as his Aunt and Uncle. I’ll find out more information and introduce myself as Hermione’s father. If it seems like a good idea, I’ll offer to take Harry from them for two weeks. I’ll call it… something. They might not even need a justification if they neglect him severely enough. But I’ll probably be able to play off of their concerns or fears as soon as I understand them.  
  
“If there’s physical abuse then we won’t return him, but if it’s neglect then we should probably help Hermione with helping him and then return him until the ones in the magical world looking after him decide to take him away.”  
  
“Why return him?” Elizabeth asked.  
  
“Because,” Michael replied, “he’s 13. He’ll be turning 14 at the end of this month according to what Hermione tells us, but there’s a reason that even the courts don’t usually force teenagers to change their living conditions except in extreme situations, pet. I don’t think what he needs most is to be saved from them, I think what he needs is to learn how to save _himself_ from them.”  
  
“What if it’s more than that?” Elizabeth asked, concern filling her voice. “What if they deprive him of the _ability_ to be happy? You can teach him how to find control, and Hermione can teach him how to connect with other people emotionally.” She smiled fondly. “Goodness knows she feels enough for him to learn that lesson, even if she can’t quite articulate it that way. But what if he doesn’t know what that kind of happiness is? It’s hard to accomplish something if you don’t understand it.”  
  
Michael looked at his wife, considering.  
  
“Do you think he should stay here?”  
  
“It depends,” Elizabeth answered. “Until we know the particulars of his situation we won’t know what works best. He might be better off experiencing some kind of independence instead of trading one set of guardians for another.”  
  
“We’re not going to adopt the boy,” Michael said.  
  
“No,” Elizabeth agreed, “but that isn’t what I’m saying. Staying here might be something that he just sees as another novel experience instead of something that teaches him something about himself.”  
  
“Based on what we’ve heard from Hermione, we know that he’s fairly important to some powerful people in the magical world. They won’t let his living situation change just because we think it should.” Michael frowned. “No, he’ll have to go back because if it’s neglect and not abuse, he needs to face them. Face the situation. He needs to take what I’ll teach him and then see it action, see that he does have the power to change things for himself. I don’t think he’ll ever fully leave that household mentally otherwise.”  
  
“There’s too much we don’t know,” Elizabeth said shaking her head. “Perhaps Hermione knows more that would be useful.”  
  
“She might,” Michael agreed. “We’ll ask her about it tomorrow before I leave to visit him, and then I’ll get more information when I talk to him and his relatives. I’ll decide how to proceed at that time.”  
  
Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated.  
  
“Go ahead, pet,” Michael encouraged.  
  
“What if… he can’t be what Hermione wants?” Elizabeth asked despondently. “What if he can’t be what she needs? I’ve seen it Michael, even though it’s only been a day. She needs this, she’s absolutely natural at it and far too intelligent to let social normatives stop her from pursuing it. If we do this we won’t be able to undo it. Their relationship with each other will be fundamentally changed once Harry understands this part of our daughter, and if he is either incapable or utterly uninterested it will devastate her.”  
  
Michael waved dismissively.  
  
“Teenagers everywhere go through crushes and unreturned love, Liz. It won’t be pleasant, but Hermione will eventually move past it.”  
  
“That’s not the point!” Elizabeth shouted. Immediately the heated expression on her face melted away and she looked down at the table. “I’m sorry for speaking with that tone Master.”  
  
Michael blinked a few times, surprised at his wife’s outburst. It was so unlike her to speak in that way, and it was clear to him that he’d said something that greatly upset her.  
  
“Go ahead,” he said softly.  
  
“It’s not that we might ‘mess up her chances’ with a potential romantic interest, Michael. It’s a consent issue.” She paused and saw the recognition start to show in her husband’s face. “If we take any of these actions without consulting Hermione first, we’re affecting her relationships without her consent. That’s outside what we _both_ have deemed acceptable under any circumstances.”  
  
“It’s a choice that can’t be undone,” Michael agreed, nodding his understanding. “I see what you are saying.” He grinned at her sheepishly. “I’m sorry for misunderstanding pet.”  
  
Elizabeth blushed and looked away. How could he _still_ make her feel this way, even after 22 years?  
  
“That’s alright, Master,” she mumbled.  
  
“Hermione had to know though…” Michael muttered. Elizabeth looked back up at him.  
  
“Know what?”  
  
“When she asked on the way home from the station,” Michael said. “She had to know that if we agreed to what she was asking for, the things she wanted and needed would change. And she also had to know that after she went back to school in September she would either need to find some kind of arrangement or go without.”  
  
“That isn’t consent for us to do this, though,” Elizabeth offered, confused.  
  
“No, no, that’s not what I’m saying,” Michael agreed calmly. “We will talk to her about that tomorrow when we discuss the Dursley’s with her. I’m saying that I don’t understand what her plan was. How she planned on balancing these things with the rest of her life.” Michael chuckled. “Our daughter doesn’t do _anything_ without a plan.”  
  
“No,” Elizabeth said, smiling. “She doesn’t.”  
  
After a moment, Elizabeth spoke again.  
  
“I told her when I was explaining her punishment that we wouldn’t help her with Harry.”  
  
“You _what_?!” Michael asked. He looked at her incredulously. “You _had_ to know there was no situation in which we would refuse to help her if she asked. Neither of us, you included, would refuse to help our daughter live a happy life.” He looked at her as if measuring her. “Why did you tell her that?”  
  
“I’m not…” Elizabeth hesitated. “Master, you know I’m not experienced being on this side of things. I…” She looked down at the table again. “It just, came out. It’s hard for me to stay in that state of mind, Master. You know that.” She sighed. “You always say ‘a punishment should affect you both physically and mentally for it to make a real impact’, and when my mind reached, that’s what I knew would affect her the most mentally. I’m sorry Master.”  
  
Elizabeth hung her head and her eyes began to water. Michael was silent. After the first teardrop rolled off her nose onto the table, Michael sighed.  
  
“I suppose this is partially my fault,” Michael said slowly. “I’ve put you in a position that you’re not well equipped for. You understand very well what goes into the mentality of being dominant, and the actions to take. I guess it just kind of made me forget that it’s not a thing which comes naturally for you and something you haven’t had much practice with.” He nodded to himself. “I should have given you better instructions on how to punish her. Something that _also_ included the mental aspect.”  
  
“I’m sorry Master,” she repeated.  
  
“It probably isn’t something she’s thought about too much,” Michael allowed. “We’ve kept her mind pretty busy since then, and she was probably a bit clouded at that time anyway. However, I’m not the one you should be apologizing too.”  
  
Elizabeth nodded in agreement without looking up, another tear falling to the table.  
  
“Tomorrow morning before you bring her downstairs for our discussion, you will take her in to the bathroom and you will apologize to her and explain what you did that was wrong,” Michael told her stiffly. “Then you will be the one drinking instead of her, and you will _offer_ to use your mouth on her _if she is so inclined_.” Michael paused, then continued in a tender voice. “Liz, I know it’s not something that you’re used to doing. But being the dominant doesn’t mean you _stop_ being her mother. I didn’t _stop_ being her father just because of the relationship we’ve always had, and I never _stopped_ being your husband just because of what we do together.”  
  
“I understand,” Elizabeth said, a few manic laughs squeezing through her tears at the relief that washed over her from the forgiveness of her Master. “I think I realized that earlier today, when me and Hermione were talking. I found that path that lets me be her mother and Mistress at the same time, and she helped me find it.”  
  
Michael smiled warmly before speaking.  
  
“Look up at me, pet.”  
  
Elizabeth looked up, a smile on her face and tears on her cheeks.  
  
“Neither of us had exactly prepared for our daughter to ambush us with this on the way home from the station. I didn’t have time to prepare you or train you.” He motioned for her to come around and sit on his lap, and as soon as she did he embraced her and cradled her head against his chest. “It’s forgiven, pet,” he whispered as she let go of the last of her tears. “You’re doing a wonderful job so far, and I’m so proud of you.”  
  
“T-Thank you-u, Master,” Elizabeth said.  
  
###  
  
Hermione woke up slowly the next morning, her mind letting go of the fog of sleep reluctantly. The first thing she thought once she was aware was that she wasn’t sure why she was naked instead of in her pajamas. It came back to her and a smile reminiscent of the one she’d gone to sleep with returned to her face. That had been… truly incredible.  
  
Getting out of bed she looked around for her uniform, as she was starting to think of it, before realizing that she’d undressed and left them strewn about downstairs. Had her mother picked them up and washed them? She looked towards the door and noticed a note taped to it. She easily recognized her mother’s clean script. It read simply, ‘Come directly to my room once you wake up.’  
  
Hermione glanced down at herself, wondering if picking out some new clothes would conflict with an instruction to ‘come directly’ to the room. Deciding that it was better to let her mother decide what she wore, Hermione opened the door and walked down the hall to her parent’s room. She hadn’t been prepared for the sight which greeted her, however.  
  
Elizabeth was tied to a hook in the ceiling, her hands taught above her. A metal bar of some kind was fastened between her ankles, keeping them spread, and the rope to the ceiling was exactly enough length for her to be standing on her toes. A vibrator of some kind was taped against her clit, buzzing softly, and her tits which Hermione had admired so much the previous morning were red and splotchy.  
  
“Untie the knot next to you,” Elizabeth said unevenly. Hermione glanced to her right and realized that the rope which went to the hook above her mother was actually tied to another hook near the door, allowing her to be more easily released. Working quickly, Hermione untied the knot and Elizabeth collapsed to the floor. Rushing to her side, Hermione began asking question.  
  
“What’s going on?” Hermione reached for the wrists and began taking the rope off. “Why are you like this?”  
  
With her wrists freed, Elizabeth removed the vibrator with a wince and a shudder, then began working on the ankle cuffs that held the spreader bar.  
  
“I’m being punished by Master,” Elizabeth explained, a smile on her face that Hermione thought was quite incongruous with how she’d been situated.  
  
“But… why?”  
  
“I’ll explain once we’re in the bathroom,” Elizabeth replied, standing and moving towards the door shakily. Hermione’s eyes widened and her face flushed. That’s right, the bathroom… she had a new morning routine to take care of. She moved after her mother into the bathroom and tried to walk past into the tub, but Elizabeth grabbed her arm. It wasn’t harsh, just enough that Hermione knew her mother wanted to speak first.  
  
“The night we got back from the train station,” Elizabeth started, “I said something to you that I shouldn’t have. Something that wasn’t true.”  
  
Hermione’s face turned to confusion. Nothing she remembered from that night seemed to be that bad.  
  
_Well,_ Hermione thought, _I suppose that’s a matter of perspective. She did basically tell me that I was a worthless scarlet woman who’s only redeeming quality was letting others use my body._ Hermione almost giggled at the absurdity of that thought, and how it actually felt comforting in some ways. _I don’t think that’s what she’s talking about though._  
  
Elizabeth watched her daughter to see if she’d figure out what it was she was talking about. If it had been something that had greatly affected Hermione’s view of her parents, it would have likely stuck with her. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding when Hermione’s face remained confused.  
  
“When I was explaining your punishment,” Elizabeth proceeded, “I told you that your father and I wouldn’t help you with Harry. But sweetie, neither of us would ever watch you struggle to find the happiness you want if we could help.” Elizabeth’s eyes clouded and Hermione felt she began to understand what her mother was talking about.  
  
_I didn’t really take it the way she’s talking about, but I can see how I might have._  
  
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Elizabeth said sincerely. “Nothing will ever stop us from being your parents or loving you, and even if it didn’t bother you, I shouldn’t have said that. For what it meant, and the idea behind it.”  
  
“I forgive you, Mistress.”  
  
Elizabeth opened her mouth to tell Hermione to call her mum, then closed it again. She didn’t want to confuse the girl.  
  
“I wasn’t supposed to tell you that, it isn’t part of the punishment that your father and I agreed on. I sort of…” Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably. “Made it up on the spot. When I told your father last night, he… was displeased. As he should be. That’s why I was tied the way I was when you walked in.”  
  
Hermione nodded her understanding before venturing a question.  
  
“What, um… What exactly was your punishment?”  
  
“Well,” Elizabeth started slowly. “I had to write the note you found on your door. After taping it up your father gave my chest 10 lashes, and I had to sleep with clamps. In the morning he set me up as you found me and told me that I would remain that way until you released me.” Elizabeth looked to the side, obviously uncomfortable. “I’m also not allowed to cum for the rest of the day, and our roles for this morning’s drink will be reversed.”  
  
At first Hermione wanted to ask how long the vibrator had been going, because after her experience last afternoon, she wasn’t sure she would be able to handle being edged like that without some kind of release. But then she caught the second half of the statement and glanced at the tub.  
  
“You mean… in there?”  
  
Elizabeth nodded.  
  
“If you want, after we finish with that I’m allowed to please you with my mouth.”  
  
Hermione wasn’t sure what to think exactly. She hadn’t really taken offense to what her mother had done wrong, but she also understood why such a thing would matter very much to her parents. In their family, being able to trust each other and rely on each other had always been an absolute quality to their relationship, and her parents had always told her how important it was to them that she could come to them with anything.  
  
She also understood much better now what it felt like to be in a relationship like her parent’s shared, and thought she might understand how her mother might have reacted to realizing she’d done something wrong. If their places were switched, Hermione would want the cleansing that such a punishment would provide. A way to atone for an action she’d take back if she could, and wash away the guilt and self-doubt it would generate.  
  
“We had better take care of it then,” Hermione said, a tinge of confidence creeping into her voice. “I need to go badly…”  
  
Elizabeth grinned, climbing into the tub and squatting down. Trying to project the kind of self-assured nonchalance she had in other areas of her life, Hermione stepped in after her and put her legs to either side of her mothers face, trying to line up correctly. She gave a gasp of surprise as her mother lifted up slightly and placed her mouth against Hermione’s slit, before pushing on the muscle that controlled her bladder.  
  
Hermione was so focused on staying in control of what she was doing that she didn’t notice anything about how her mother reacted. She was entirely focused on trying to control the flow so that it would be manageable, which was difficult because it was something she’d never really had to do before. But regardless of whether or not her efforts were successful, her mother seemed to manage and not a drop was spilled.  
  
After she was finished, Hermione felt a shock travel through her as her mother’s tongue swiped up.  
  
“No!” Hermione shouted reflexively, stumbling backward. “I… sorry, Mistress. I’ll, erm, pass on the optional part. Still a bit… worn out from yesterday.”  
  
Elizabeth nodded and stood up, giving her daughter a hug. They embraced one another for a few seconds before Elizabeth pulled back and smiled.  
  
“Now,” Elizabeth said with a voice that Hermione knew meant things were back to normal. Or at least, back to the new normal. “Listen carefully slut. I need to go clean up my room and put away the rope and other things that have been left out. Go get dressed in whatever you wish and head downstairs, I’ll join you and your father shortly.” Elizabeth pulled Hermione close suddenly and began to reach around her back. “First though, this comes out for a little while.”  
  
Hermione felt her mother reach behind and wrap her fingers around the plug, pulling on it gently. Relaxing her muscles, Hermione felt it slide out, and realized that she also needed to take care of _that_ problem as well.  
  
Elizabeth placed the plug in the sink and started to walk out of the bathroom.  
  
“We’ll put it back in after your father leaves for the day,” she called out, heading down the hall.  
  
Hermione took care of all her maintenance tasks swiftly, and only five minutes later was walking into the dining room where her father was sitting, reading the paper.  
  
“Hello, sweetheart,” he said warmly. “Did you take care of your mother?”  
  
Hermione nodded with a blush then walked into the kitchen to make a bowl of cereal. By the time she’d finished and was walking towards the table, Elizabeth was walking into the room wearing the same latex skirt and half bra that she’d been wearing the first night.  
  
Her mother sat down at one of the dining room chairs and remained silent while her father returned to the paper. Looking between the two, Hermione got the sense that there was some kind of discussion they wanted to have. She got that sense, ironically, from how they were currently saying nothing.  
  
Setting her bowl down, Hermione started eating her breakfast and considered what the topic could be.  
  
_Well, considering how big of a deal what mum was talking about seemed to be to them, it probably has something to do with Harry,_ she reasoned. _Perhaps dad looked into him? Or they need to know something about him from me?_  
  
She wasn’t known as the brightest witch of her age for nothing.  
  
Finishing her last bite, Hermione spoke.  
  
“Did you want to talk about Harry?” she asked.  
  
Elizabeth smiled and shook her head, as if to say ‘of course we should have expected that’, while Michael looked at her, both amused and impressed.  
  
“You are frighteningly intelligent, sweetheart,” he said. Hermione glowed under the compliment, smiling widely. “We wanted to know if you could tell us anything about Harry’s home life.”  
  
Hermione looked at him concerned before glancing at her mother. She looked back to her father and asked a question of her own.  
  
“Did you find something out, dad?” Her mind was racing.  
  
_Why would he ask that question except if there was something seriously wrong? How could he have found out? What does he think is happening to Harry at home? What IS happening to Harry at home!?_  
  
“I was able to get his medical records,” Michael replied, noticing the instant fear that crossed Hermione’s face. “Nothing there suggests he’s suffering from physical abuse, sweetheart. All the same, there were things that left us with… questions, let’s say. About his relationship with his relatives.”  
  
Hermione tried to calm down and looked down at the table trying to focus.  
  
“He doesn’t talk about it much,” she answered lowly. “From what I gather they either ignore him completely or hate him openly, though I’m not sure which. He’s said that they don’t like magic, but I think it might be a more severe than he was letting on.”  
  
“Hmmm.” Michael thought for a few seconds then glanced at Elizabeth. “Do you think that’s where the problems come from Liz? Magic?”  
  
“I suppose it can be an unwelcome shock to some families.” She looked at Hermione confused. “But they’re his Aunt and Uncle, right? So that means one of them had to have been siblings with one of Harry’s parents, and they were both magical.”  
  
“His Aunt,” Hermione relayed. “Her sister was Harry’s mother.”  
  
“Then why the problem with magic?” Michael asked, only more confused now. “She would have grown up around it.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Hermione said. “Harry never talks about this sort of thing.”  
  
“All I have is more questions…” Michael muttered, trailing off.  
  
“Sorry dad,” Hermione offered disappointedly.  
  
“No, sweetheart, it’s not a problem. In fact you’ve been helpful,” he offered with a smile. She saw him glance at her mother before looking back. “I want to go to Harry’s house and help him, sweetheart, but I want to know if that’s okay with you first.”  
  
Hermione’s mind worked furiously at this information and she began to go over what he might mean. Help him with his relatives? With his relationship with them? She began to blush.  
  
_Help him with what they’re helping me with right now?_  
  
“Do… Are you going to tell him about our family, and about… me?”  
  
Michael shook his head.  
  
“No, sweetheart, not unless that’s okay with you. I can probably help him with some things without going into that at all.” He paused. “If that is okay with you though, I can probably help him with some of the control and confidence issues you mentioned on the way home from the station.”  
  
Hermione worked the request over in her mind.  
  
_What would I do to help Harry?_  
  
Anything. The answer was anything.  
  
“Please do that dad. If you think it will help.”  
  
Michael watched her for a few seconds before nodding.  
  
“Alright, sweetheart. I’ll be on my way then, it’s a few hours to Surrey.”  
  
Michael stood up and began collecting his things, and Hermione suddenly became extremely nervous.  
  
“Dad?” she called out and he turned to look at her. “Are you… Is he going to be coming back with you?”  
  
Michael glanced at Elizabeth and she gave a small nod.  
  
“If it works out with him and relatives, I can. Why sweetheart?”  
  
“If…” She hesitated before gathering her resolve and plowing forward. “If he’s coming over, can I be the one to explain to him about you about mum? About me?”  
  
Michael stared at her blankly for a few seconds before responding.  
  
“Are you sure sweetheart? You don’t have to, you know.”  
  
“I know, dad,” she said. “But I should. I’m the reason he’s going to be exposed to any of this, and I have no idea how he’ll feel about it. It’s my responsibility to explain myself to him.”  
  
Michael bobbed his head, then walked over to her and patted her on the head.  
  
“My little girl is growing up so fast.”  
  
In a few minutes he was out the front door, and a few seconds of silence later Elizabeth spoke up.  
  
“Come on slut,” she said beckoning back towards the kitchen. “You went to bed without dinner, you need more than just a bowl of cereal.”  
  
###  
  
Harry had just finished with the roses, preferring to get that chore done early in the day to avoid the summer heat, and was washing up when the doorbell rang. It wasn’t very often that doorbells rang on Private Drive during the summer, and a fleeting hope clutched at Harry that it was Sirius coming to tell him that everything had been worked out, and they could live together now.  
  
Harry squashed that thought miserably, frustrated with his traitorous imagination having presented him with something so painful.  
  
He was about to walk into his room and stay out of sight, like his relatives preferred when guests were over, when he caught something the man was saying.  
  
“…Hermione Granger’s father. She attends school with Harry.”  
  
Harry turned around so quickly he nearly fell over and practically flew down the stairs.  
  
“Mr. Granger?” he called out, reaching the landing. Aunt Petunia, who’d answered the door, looked flabbergasted that Harry had seemed to appear from nowhere, and the sour look on her face told him she was exceedingly unhappy to have someone with a connection to his world at the door. “What are you doing here?”  
  
Michael smiled at Harry and nodded towards Petunia.  
  
“I was just introducing myself to your Aunt. I’d like to speak to you, if that’s alright.”  
  
“We _told_ those _freaks_ not to come around,” Aunt Petunia spat out. She rounded on Harry. “Did you get his daughter pregnant?”  
  
Before Harry could answer, Michael interjected.  
  
“No, nothing like that fortunately.” He said it in a light voice, trying to lessen the tension, but Aunt Petunia seemed immune and continued focusing on Harry.  
  
“So what then, is she some trollop you’re seeing?”  
  
Harry was stunned at the audacity of his Aunt and looked at Mr. Granger nervously. The man’s face still had a smile on it, but it had tightened considerably.  
  
“Madam,” he said with a steel in his voice that conveyed his opinion of Petunia’s imagination. “Perhaps if you invited me inside I could explain myself.”  
  
Aunt Petunia looked back at Michael, the sour look still on her face, before she apparently realized _why_ he might be looking at her with such strained politeness.  
  
“Of course…” she said, pausing and collecting herself. She turned back to Harry. “Make some tea.”  
  
Harry bolted, terrified of what any father might do when a stranger impugned their daughter in such a manner.  
  
“Keep your wand away from your hands,” Petunia told Michael.  
  
“A wand?” he replied confused. “But I’m not magical, madam. I’m a dentist.”  
  
The fire seemed to leave Petunia as she sputtered and huffed before turning and heading to the sitting room. Michael followed, glancing around the house as he went.  
  
_That must be Harry’s cousin,_ he thought as he glanced over several pictures. _None of Harry though. Neglect seems more likely now, especially since he seemed in such good health when he answered the door._  
  
Harry worked in the kitchen preparing the tea and Michael sat across from Petunia, waiting patiently.  
  
“Why are you here?” she finally asked with another huff.  
  
“To talk with Harry,” he replied. “I believe I mentioned that at the door.”  
  
“About what?”  
  
Michael stared at the thin woman in front of him, deciding how to proceed.  
  
_If I tell her that I’m here to take him away for a few weeks, will she agree simply to get rid of him?_ Michael wondered internally. _She seems to expect everything to be Harry’s fault. Would she want to prevent him from enjoying himself?_  
  
Michael glanced towards the kitchen, then back to Petunia.  
  
_I can’t go with the route of claiming some kind of school event, because her distaste for magic seems to have been understated if anything by Hermione. So then, I’ll stick to the non-magical lie._  
  
“My wife and I are both dentists, so we’ve obviously instilled a great respect for the civility of healthy teeth in our daughter,” Michael explained. “While at school, my daughter noticed that Harry is in need of a dental procedure.” He paused. “No doubt because of an irresponsible amount of sweets while at school.”  
  
Petunia nodded absently, and Michael wondered if she even realized she was doing it for how automatic it was.  
  
“The procedure should only take a day, but children are often unbearable afterward, so we thought we would offer to watch him for the two week recovery period.”  
  
“We won’t pay for it,” Petunia declared instantly.  
  
“I’m not on a door-to-door sales pitch, madam,” he said with as much disdain as he could muster. “It’s been paid for by another party.” Michael wondered how much Petunia knew about Harry’s life. “Some fellow that claimed to be his godfather.”  
  
Michael heard a gasp from the archway into the room and turned to see Harry holding the tea tray with a shocked yet hopeful look on his face. Michael cringed inwardly.  
  
_Sorry Harry, I didn’t mean for that lie to be heard by you._  
  
Petunia looked ghost white at this information and nodded quickly.  
  
“Yes, of course. Go ahead and take him then.” She pointed to the stairs and glared at Harry. “Go get your things to take them as well, I don’t want to leave that unnaturalness unattended while you’re away.”  
  
Harry, still reeling from what he had heard, turned to leave slowly, not realizing the tea tray was still in his hands. Michael watched Harry leave the room and then turned back to Petunia.  
  
_I guess I’ll have to take him with me regardless then. I didn’t expect her to kick him out quite so easily._  
  
“Well I’ll just go help him collect his things then we’ll be on our way,” Michael said amiably.  
  
“Of course,” Petunia replied agreeably.  
  
Michael turned and walked up the stairs then followed the sounds of packing coming from the left. Pausing at the half-open door he knocked and the sounds of packing stopped.  
  
“Er… uh… come in?”  
  
It sounded more like a question than a statement to Michael.  
  
_So he doesn’t have many personal boundaries or much privacy, likely._  
  
Walking into the room and closing the door behind him, Michael turned and faced the boy, studying him carefully.  
  
_Definitely didn’t get enough nutrition as a younger child, but his face has filled out so the school meals have likely ended that problem._ He looked over Harry’s clothes for a moment. _Far too large and well worn to be things purchased for him. Probably cast-offs from his cousin based on the pictures of the boy and Petunia’s instant objection to the cost of a dental procedure._  
  
Harry shifted uncomfortably and Michael realized he’d been staring.  
  
“Sir,” Harry started before Michael got the chance to speak. “Did… Did Sirius really send you to get me?”  
  
Michael sighed and slumped a bit.  
  
_This is going to be an unpleasant way to start off with him._  
  
“No, I’m afraid not Harry.” Michael watched as Harry seemed to shrink a bit in front of him. “I was casting about for something that would satisfy your Aunt as a reason to leave and gambled that she knew of him.”  
  
A few seconds passed before Harry seemed to collect himself and direct an angry glare at Michael.  
  
“And why _are_ you here, _Mr. Granger_. If that really is your name.”  
  
Michael’s eyebrows raised. Was Harry expecting people to try and abduct him?  
  
“I am indeed Hermione’s father,” he answered smoothly, taking care to display only an earnest desire to care for the boy. “Hermione… hadn’t been telling her mother or me about what was actually happening at your school.”  
  
“Ah,” Harry replied, looking down and seeming to deflate once more. Michael found this confusing until the boy continued. “I’m sorry Sir, I’ll… stay away from her if you want. I know being my friend seems to get her in trouble.”  
  
Michael’s eyebrows raised again in astonishment.  
  
_Definitely some esteem problems, and the way he talks about his life… it’s like he’s given up the hope of having control over it._  
  
“I see,” Michael said, filling the silence. “That, er, isn’t why I’m here. I’m not here to reprimand you, or provide you with a dental procedure.” Michael chuckled. “From what little I’ve seen so far your teeth seem perfectly healthy, which is more than can be said for many your age. No, I’m here because Hermione has decided something about her life. Something important to her and difficult to explain. It might involve you, or it might not, but as her closest friend I offered to bring you so that you could help her with this… change in her life. If you were willing.”  
  
Michael was already formulating the excuse he would give if Harry decided to stay.  
  
_Something about Hermione being a liar making up stories about her friends would probably work well with Petunia._  
  
“Will… I have to come back here? This summer?”  
  
“Yes Harry, I’m afraid you will. Though I understand why you may not want to.”  
  
The green-eyed boy nodded as if he’d expected the answer.  
  
“For how long?”  
  
“Two weeks,” Michael answered. “You’ll be back a few days before your birthday.”  
  
“Will I be staying at your house Mr. Granger?”  
  
“I’m not sure yet, but there are several options we’re considering. Depending on how your conversation with Hermione goes, you and me might go on a holiday together and leave the girls to their devices for a week or so.”  
  
Harry furrowed his brow at this information, not understanding how that could make sense with the other things Michael had told him.  
  
“I see,” Harry finally replied. Michael hesitated a few seconds before asking the question he needed to know the answer to that moment.  
  
“Will you come with me Harry?”  
  
Harry considered the offer. Apparently something was going on that Hermione either wanted to share with him or wanted his help with. He thought back to the ordeal he’d gone through with her barely a week earlier. She’d always helped him, always stayed by his side. Even when he didn’t want her help, like with his Firebolt this last year, she’d still been looking out for him. If she needed him now, how could he say no?  
  
“Yes Sir,” he answered with a resolve that surprised Michael. “If Hermione needs me, I’ll do what I can.”  
  
_Interesting,_ Michael thought, observing the strength in the boys expression at that moment. _So his esteem problems don’t extend to his ability to help other people._  
  
“Let’s finished packing then,” Michael replied, motioning towards the items that were still outside of the boy’s trunk. They collected the items in silence and within a few minutes were carrying the trunk downstairs together. Harry had sent Hedwig ahead to Hermione and strapped the cage to the top of trunk for easy carrying.  
  
“We’ll be on our way!” Michael called out to Petunia as they reached the front door. “I’ll have him back to you in two weeks time.”  
  
Petunia simply sniffed as she watched the pair carry the trunk out to Michael’s car. Soon the engine was started and they were pulling away from the plain-seeming house in a row of houses just like it. After several minutes of silence on the road, Michael decided to begin the series of conversations he was likely going to need with the boy.  
  
“Do you feel like you have much control over your life Harry?”  
  
Michael saw the boy’s face turn and look at him out of the corner of his eye, but he waited patiently for an answer.  
  
“No Sir.”  
  
“Do you want to? Have some control over your life that is?”  
  
This time Harry’s whole upper body turned to face Michael and he glanced over. Harry’s face seemed cautious and confused.  
  
“Why are you asking?”  
  
“It’s related to the, uh, situation that Hermione finds herself in. If you decide to help her after she speaks with you, then one of the things I will be doing is helping you find that control within your life.”  
  
Harry gawked at Michael as if he’d declared himself the rightful sovereign of the British Empire.  
  
“Yes Sir. More control would be… nice.”  
  
Michael let it drop at that and a minute later decided to turn on the radio.  
  
###  
  
“Slut,” Elizabeth called out with a sigh. “They’re still several hours away. Your father probably hasn’t even arrived at Harry’s house yet. If you don’t calm down you’ll be a nervous wreck by the time Harry gets here.”  
  
Hermione’s nervous ticks were all on display. She was pacing, biting her lip, flipping from one activity to another rapidly, and muttering to herself.  
  
_Classic signs of a stressed Hermione,_ Elizabeth thought with equal measures fondness and exasperation.  
  
“But Mistress,” Hermione started. “What if he doesn’t understand? What if dad gives him the wrong idea and he’s not mentally prepared? What if—”  
  
“Enough,” Elizabeth said with authority. Hermione jumped at her tone and looked at her mother apologetically. “Your mind is far too active. It’s time to turn your mind off.”  
  
Elizabeth walked over to Hermione quickly, and before the younger girl could react, reached down the front of her pants and stuck a finger into her folds. Hermione gasped and went rigid for a moment before relaxing. Sliding her finger around a bit first, Elizabeth removed her hand and examined the glistening tip.  
  
“What are you?” Elizabeth asked forcefully.  
  
“I—uh—I’m a slut,” Hermione fumbled. Elizabeth frowned then reached out with her clean hand and tweaked one of Hermione’s nipples through her shirt, causing the girl to squeal in pain.  
  
“Hesitation will be punished,” Elizabeth said. She held up the glistening fingertip in front of Hermione’s face. “Open.”  
  
Hermione opened her mouth immediately, and the finger was inside almost as quickly.  
  
“We’re going to go up to my room and I’m going to stick you between my legs for a while so that your mouth can do something more useful than it has been,” her mother explained. Before Hermione could really process what had been said Elizabeth was walking towards the stairs and Hermione jumped into action, following behind.  
  
In short order Hermione found herself between her mother’s spread legs, her mouth arguably more active than it had been before.  
  
“Thaaat’s better,” Elizabeth sighed contentedly. “In a few hours I’ll let you get cleaned up and dressed. You’ll be allowed to wear a bra if you want when you greet him.”  
  
Elizabeth laid her head back and let out a long breath, relaxing into the feeling coming from below.  
  
“You’re doing better than the other night,” Elizabeth commented. “Perhaps this is yet one more thing my daughter is good at.” She let out a giggle and patted Hermione on the head between her legs. “Lucky me.”  
  
At first Hermione was extremely focused on the task at hand, but as time went on she got used to the situation enough to let her mind wander while doing it. She watched as her mother pulled a book from the nightstand and started to read and for a moment felt herself start to worry.  
  
_Am I doing that badly?_  
  
Elizabeth seemed to read her mind though.  
  
“Don’t worry slut, you’re doing fine,” she said distractedly. “In case you forgot, I’m not allowed to cum today, so I need to distract myself a little.”  
  
Hermione felt the reassurance wash over her and her mind wandered once more. To her surprise, it didn’t fixate on Harry or the coming discussion like she’d expected. Instead it seemed to drift towards her experiences as a sub so far, and how she felt about what she had learned and done. Every so often her mothers hand would pat her on the head, or run through her hair, much like you would encourage a dog Hermione thought, and she found herself feeling more and more the part that she was so actively playing: the obedient, submissive slut.  
  
She was confused at first when she felt her mother pushed her away from her task. Glancing up at Mistress’ face, her own face shining with juices, she waited for an instruction.  
  
“It’s time for you to get cleaned up and dressed, slut,” Elizabeth said warmly. “They should be here in the next half hour.”  
  
Hermione nodded and got up to leave the room. With every step she took she felt a little lighter. It had worked. Her anxiety was gone, replaced with the simplicity of what she was asked to be right now. Just a slut. Nothing more.  
  
###  
  
Michael pulled into the driveway, a chuckle on his lips.  
  
“He was trying to raise a _dragon_?” Michael asked with obvious humor. Harry chuckled as well.  
  
They had passed the last portion of the trip bonding over Michael’s interest in Harry’s experiences at school. Michael had wanted to know more about the day-to-day adventures and experiences than the major events which had consumed the last several years, which put Harry much more at ease.  
  
“Yeah. In a wooden hut no less.” Michael snorted and Harry continued as the car was shut off. “He’s such a friendly guy though that it’s hard to hold that kind of thing against him. He just gets blinded by his passion for creatures.”  
  
Harry looked around suddenly, realizing that they’d come to a stop.  
  
“We’re here already?”  
  
“We certainly are,” Michael replied, opening his door and stepping out.  
  
Harry followed suit and moved to unload his trunk but Michael caught his attention and motioned for him to leave it.  
  
“We can get the trunk later, Harry,” Michael told him. “Let’s go in and say hello first.”  
  
Harry felt nervous as he approached the door and he couldn’t quite figure out why. He’d seen Hermione only a few days ago and hadn’t been nervous in the slightest. Harry glanced at Michael as the man fumbled with his keys.  
  
_Perhaps it has something to do with how vague Mr. Granger was being about what’s going on with Hermione, or why I’m here._ He collected the sense of will within himself that he was so familiar with using in unknown situations. _I just hope that I can help, whatever it is._  
  
As the door opened he followed Michael in and started looking around immediately, noticing the clean but still lived-in dining room. Turning to check his other side he was staggered as arms wrapped around him and messy brown hair covered his face.  
  
“Hello Harry,” Hermione said softly from his chest. He grinned and gave her a few pats on the back before pulling away and inspecting her.  
  
He thought she looked more relaxed that she usually did, but couldn’t decide if it was due to what she was wearing or simply that she was at home. Her outfit wasn’t anything too special, but it was a bit more showy than the clothes that Hermione usually wore. Or at least, the ones that she brought to Hogwarts with her. Her pants were rather tight-fitting, and only went down to her calves, while her shirt let most of the skin on her arms show and looked to be a comfortably worn and faded piece of clothing.  
  
“Hello Hermione,” he replied smiling. After a few seconds though, his smile turned into a frown, and then into confusion. “Er, why did you want me here? Nothing seems to be wrong…” He saw her expression shift to something that looked like discomfort and quickly followed up. “Not that I’m put out, mind you. I’d much rather be here with you than back at the Dursley’s.”  
  
“Let’s go upstairs,” Hermione offered, grabbing him by the arm.  
  
“We’ll have dinner ready in about an hour,” Elizabeth called after them.  
  
Pulling Harry into her room, Hermione reached to close the door, then remembered what her mother had said the previous day.  
  
_Right. Sluts don’t get privacy._  
  
Walking to her bed and sitting down Hermione looked at Harry expectantly waiting for him to sit and get comfortable. For his part, Harry was suddenly quite nervous once more, well aware that this was a new situation and environment to be with his friend in. A very… intimate situation and environment compared to how they usually spent time. Deciding he better take a seat as she clearly expected, Harry went to the opposite end of the bed and sat down facing her, crossing his legs under him.  
  
“Where do I start…” Hermione muttered.  
  
“At the beginning, normally,” Harry offered, trying to calm his own nerves with a joke. She grinned at him.  
  
“All right then,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Do you know anything about sex, Harry?”  
  
To say that Harry was startled at the question would be quite the understatement. He nearly fell off the bed. Righting himself and glancing at Hermione with a furious blush he noticed that her cheeks were almost equally red as his felt. At least this was affecting her as well.  
  
“Yes,” he muttered, not willing to offer anything further unless she asked a much more specific question.  
  
“When did you learn?” she asked.  
  
“In school the year before Hogwarts,” Harry replied, feeling his blush deepen.  
  
“Really?” she asked curiously. “Have you ever had sex?”  
  
“Hermione!”  
  
_At least she has the grace to look guilty,_ he thought, wondering if there was a more nerve-wracking conversation a girl’s father might pick up a young boy to have with his daughter.  
  
“Sorry Harry,” Hermione said sheepishly. “I was… getting distracted. But it’s just such a fascinating subject—a lot of the materials on it are contradictory and unreliable—and it’s not one that I talk about with anyone, and—”  
  
“Hermione,” Harry interjected, feeling that she was surely trying to kill him.  
  
“Sorry,” she repeated. A few seconds of silence passed. “Are you familiar with dominance and submission?”  
  
Harry was confused with the sudden change in topic, and reached through his mind for what she could be referring to. Perhaps she was rephrasing how magic interacted during a transfiguration?  
  
“In magic, you mean?”  
  
Now Hermione looked confused.  
  
“There’s dominance and submission in magic?”  
  
“Well,” Harry hedged, “it sounds similar to how magic works during a transfiguration.”  
  
Hermione looked somewhat shocked, and then laughed. Harry didn’t think he’d ever heard her laugh so deeply, and was very sure he hadn’t made a joke of any kind. She was laughing too genuinely to be laughing at him, but he didn’t understand what was so funny. After a few seconds the laughter died and Hermione took another deep breath, this one seeming much more relaxed.  
  
“No Harry. Dominance and submission in sex.”  
  
_I don’t remember anything about THAT in school,_ Harry thought.  
  
“No,” he answered, feeling lost again.  
  
“For some people,” Hermione explained, “when they are with another person, they want to be… controlled. And other people in the same situation want to be in control. Dominance and submission in sex are about that. The dominant is in control and the submissive is being controlled.”  
  
“But…” Harry was simply too confused to feel embarrassed about the subject any longer. “How… would that even work?”  
  
“Well,” Hermione pressed quickly, “there are many different ways, but a few examples might be the dominant giving the submissive instructions, or tying them up.”  
  
Harry’s brows furrowed.  
  
“How can you have sex if you’re tied up?” His brain caught up with his question and he amended it. “I mean, physically it seems like being tied up might get in the way of that.”  
  
“Sex isn’t just about… what they talk about in school,” Hermione replied, some of her blush returning. “In school what they are really teaching you about is how reproduction works. The kind of sex that can lead to… children.”  
  
Harry nodded and looked around the room, sure that there must be a camera somewhere.  
  
_Did I fall down the stairs coming down from my room?_ He thought. _Am I lying in a hospital bed hallucinating?_  
  
If he was, then surely the fact he was hallucinating about discussing sex with Hermione meant something.  
  
“Sex is about… all the things that bring pleasure and gratification to yourself and your partner,” Hermione supplied. “Some of those things don’t even require both people to be naked.”  
  
“I see,” he acknowledged dumbly.  
  
“I’m not explaining this very well…” Hermione muttered in a voice that Harry was familiar with. It was the one she used with herself when she thought she was messing something up.  
  
“I just don’t understand what all this is about,” Harry told her. “Your father didn’t explain very much.”  
  
Hermione hesitated, then decided there was no point in dancing around the issue any longer.  
  
“I enjoy being controlled Harry, sexually. And in other ways.” Her face gained that brilliant glow again. “You’re here because… you’re really the only person I know that I’d want to share that with.”  
  
“Me?” Harry confirmed. “Do… I mean… Do you fancy me?”  
  
Hermione gulped. There wasn’t any turning back from this conversation.  
  
_In for a penny…_  
  
“I think it goes far beyond fancy, Harry,” she nearly whispered.  
  
Harry didn’t know how to respond. He liked Hermione very much, but if he were honest the thought of something beyond friendship with her hadn’t even occurred to him. Not that she was undesirable, he reasoned. His life had just been so full of danger and excitement that there didn’t seem to be space for something like that. Now that he was considering it in fact, Hermione had many qualities that he found rather attractive.  
  
She was intelligent, and applied that intelligence to her work and her friends in equal parts. She was very loyal and brave, having stuck with him through experiences that most people would have run from screaming. That loyalty had even cost her over a month of her life in second year. And now that he was considering it, and she was sitting there in those different clothes, he felt comfortable saying that she looked rather pleasant as well.  
  
He thought about what she had said some more, when his mind caught on something.  
  
“Hang on,” he started. “Hermione Granger, _the_ Hermione Granger, who speaks about the injustice of House Elves and the backward thinking of wizards… enjoys being controlled?”  
  
“There’s a difference,” Hermione replied hotly. “I’m choosing this. And…” she looked at him nervously. “I’m choosing you.”  
  
Harry was stunned at the depth of feeling behind that statement. Even if all of… whatever this was went somewhere, he felt that there must be people who would know how to do it better than he did, which was to say not at all. But she was telling him that she wanted to choose him anyway. She must understand how little he knew about doing this based on his answers so far, and yet she was still choosing him.  
  
It was a feeling that Harry wasn’t really familiar with, and he decided to come back to that later.  
  
“So then… if… or… when?… uh… we ever have sex… you want to be controlled?”  
  
Hermione looked down and in that moment, with that look, he realized that whatever this discussion was turning out to be, Hermione was laying a part of her soul bare before him.  
  
“No Harry,” she said softly. “It goes a bit deeper than that. With… the right person… I’d enjoy being controlled all the time. Not just during sex.”  
  
“And… I’m that person?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“But…” Harry thought for several moments, trying to understand. “I thought you enjoyed having freedom, Hermione. You’ve always talked about achieving something great, and being a person who can make a difference in the world.”  
  
“I still can,” Hermione replied, “if _that person_ allows me.”  
  
Harry looked aghast.  
  
“But Hermione!” Harry objected. “You’re… you’re far too brilliant to be held back just because some bloke says you’re not allowed to be your best!”  
  
Harry was rather upset at this notion, and so he was surprised when a large smile slowly spread over Hermione’s face.  
  
“That’s part of what makes you _that person_ for me, Harry. I trust you. I know you wouldn’t use that control to hurt me.” She paused and blushed slightly, the smile weakening. “Well, not in that way.”  
  
“I’d _never_ hurt you, Hermione!” Harry declared defiantly.  
  
“Even if I wanted you to hurt me?” she asked boldly. “Even if I deserved it?”  
  
Harry gaped, at a loss.  
  
“Er… Well, I don’t think…” He trailed off, not really sure how to respond. He went back to the part of it he felt he understood. “Hermione, I don’t really understand why you’d want to give up your freedom like that. It just seems… unnecessary. Don’t you want to be able to choose what you study? Or… Or your favorite type of pudding?”  
  
Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment before replying.  
  
“Harry…” she began slowly, “freedom isn’t nearly that straightforward. You say that you can make those choices, but can you _not_ make those choices? Can you choose to _not_ choose?” She saw the confusion on his face and explained further. “In most of life, for most adults, those choices cannot be ignored. You don’t have the freedom to ignore them. But by submitting, I give that choice to someone else, it becomes theirs to make, and I gain freedom from that responsibility. It’s a different kind of freedom. I get to _not_ choose at all, which is a freedom most people rarely know.”  
  
Harry wanted to object that that’s how he often felt about his own life, and it wasn’t quite all she was making it out to be, but the argument died in his throat as he thought about it further.  
  
Most of the things that did still cause him stress were the choices he was left to make, and if someone got to select the person that made those choices for them, instead of having that person thrust upon them as Harry had, he thought he could understand what she was getting at. It certainly wasn’t the type of life he would want to lead, but he could at least understand how a different person might.  
  
_But then, she’s not asking me to live that life, she’s saying she wants to._ He considered this. _In fact, she’s asking me to make more choices, to have more control. Wait, control?_  
  
“I see,” Harry commented absently. “That’s why he was asking.”  
  
“What did who ask?” Hermione queried.  
  
“Your father, he asked me a question about the control I have over my life, and—” Harry stopped abruptly, a terrible thought occurring to him. “Hermione, tell me you’re not doing this just to help me feel better about everything that’s happened to me. Tell me that it’s not just for me that you’re saying you want to give me your freedom.”  
  
“The only way it’s about you is that you’re the only person that I would trust with this, Harry.” She looked away, that unsure look returned to her face. “You’re the only person I care for in that way.”  
  
Her words hit something deep inside him and he realized that she was speaking to a feeling that was much more deep and personal than he’d thought at first. Having recognized it in someone else for the first time in his life, he found a feeling that sat unlabeled within himself that seemed like something similar. That desire to be with the other person as often as possible on their good days, and the understanding to still appreciate them on their bad ones.  
  
“I think I understand what you’re saying…” Harry said slowly, placing all the pieces together in his head. “And… I don’t know exactly how to do any of the things we’re talking about Hermione, so I’m probably rubbish at them, but for you… I’d be willing to try.” He smiled at her. “You’re the only person I care for in that way as well.”  
  
Hermione smiled brilliantly and jumped forward, latching her arms around him.  
  
“Thank you Harry,” she said, once more speaking into his chest. “Thank you for not throwing me away now that you really know who I am inside.”  
  
“I couldn’t do that,” Harry replied softly. They held each other for a few moments and after parting Harry asked another question. “Have you had sex before?”  
  
He was hoping to throw the uncomfortable question from earlier back at her and watch her squirm. He was not prepared for the answer that left her mouth.  
  
“Only with my mother—I mean Mistress—I mean…”  
  
Hermione turned a shade of scarlet that he’d never seen on a person other than Uncle Vernon, but he was sure it wasn’t because Hermione was furious.  
  
That seemed… strange, from what Harry knew about normal families. But then, most of this had seemed strange to him until Hermione had explained it, and she had always been the one to know when something was acceptable or not. He couldn’t hold it in and started laughing.  
  
“Oh Hermione…” Harry said between breaths. “You look… adorable like that… all embarrassed.”  
  
This only served to make Hermione bury her face in her hands, which in turn only increased the humor and adorable qualities to Harry. After a minute or so his laughter finally died.  
  
“I can’t believe your father lied to my Aunt in order to abduct me so that I could start a sexual relationship with you.”  
  
Hermione’s face shot up looking absolutely scandalized.  
  
“He _lied_ to _abduct_ you?!”  
  
Harry chuckled.  
  
“It’s not quite as bad as it sounds. My relatives wouldn’t have let me leave otherwise, and I am eternally grateful that you are telling me all of this instead of him.” Harry paused for a second. “How should I learn to do this? Normally my answer would be to ‘have Hermione tell me what to do’, but seeing as that’s rather the opposite of the goal, I don’t know how I should figure it out. Do you have a book for me to read?”  
  
At this Hermione couldn’t help herself and let out a short laugh of her own.  
  
“I do, in fact. But my father knows quite a lot about the things you would need to learn and has offered to teach you instead.” She gave him a smirk. “You’ve always been much more of a hands on learner.”  
  
Hermione glanced at the clock and turned back to Harry.  
  
“Dinner should be just about ready,” she said, standing up. He stood as well and they walked towards the door. “Let’s join my parents downstairs.”  
  
“Your parents…” Harry muttered, his eyes widening. “Oh bloody hell! How am I going to survive eating dinner with them after what we just talked about?!”  
  
“Harry! Lang—”  
  
“No!” Harry interrupted, pointing a finger and stopping her before she could finish. “You want me to control you right? Well here’s one: no more nagging me about my language.”  
  
Hermione’s jaw snapped shut and her face turned slightly rosy. Simultaneously both of them felt a pleasant tingle pass through their bodies, and a small smile grew on Hermione’s face. She looked down.  
  
“Yes Harry.”  
  
**Author's Note:**  
  
If you’re interested, you’re welcome to join me on my Discord server:  
  
<https://discord.gg/TQ25x5u>


	6. The Illusion Of Control

Chapter 6  
The Illusion Of Control  
  
###  
  
Elizabeth smiled as she listened to the noises coming from upstairs. Every so often there would be another raised voice, or a loud laugh, but overall she thought things were probably going well for her daughter.  
  
“It smells good, pet,” Michael said with a grin.  
  
“Thank you, Master,” Elizabeth replied. She moved to check the stove, gave the food a taste, and decided to add a bit more salt.  
  
“How did your day go?” Michael asked, walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. Elizabeth felt her heart beat faster and shuddered slightly, still very wound up from a day of edging with no release.  
  
“It went well, Master,” Elizabeth told him breathlessly. “Hermione was going spare with nerves, so I distracted her.”  
  
“Oh?” Michael quirked an eyebrow. “How did you do that?”  
  
“Well,” Elizabeth giggled, “I took her up to our room and made her use her mouth for about three hours. She seemed pretty calm after that.”  
  
Michael barked a laugh at this, stepping back and shaking his head.  
  
“Like mother, like daughter I suppose,” Michael provided, an overly pompous and sagely tone in his voice. “Nothing cures a bout of nerves for a slut like turning her brain off with sex.”  
  
Elizabeth turned and gave him a look of mock indignation.  
  
“Master! You’re so mean sometimes.” But her eyes betrayed the humor she felt at his comment. “What did you find out about Harry?”  
  
“I’m more convinced that the problems are mainly neglect, but it seems to be of a very depersonalizing nature,” Michael told her. “He didn’t seem to have any expectation of privacy or independence, he’s not in a single family photo in the house, and his Aunt seemed to assume that everything was his fault. But there was also…” Michael searched for the right phrasing. “A kind of hatred or loathing. Maybe just of him, or maybe of magic in general.”  
  
“That’s…” Elizabeth’s face softened. “That’s unfortunate. Are you sure we should return him?”  
  
“I’m actually more convinced we should now,” Michael answered, surprising his wife.  
  
“Really?” she asked disbelievingly.  
  
“Yes. Their neglect of him and hatred for either him or his connection to magic is so pronounced that whoever is responsible for putting him there in the magical world must know about it.” Michael paused to make sure Elizabeth was following his thoughts. “Now, while it’s possible that the person that placed him there is simply neglectful themselves, or indifferent to his condition, I think that’s unlikely. For several reasons. For one, he’s a rather prominent person in their world from what we know. For another, from Hermione’s description there are several very important people in their world that seem to care about his wellbeing to at least some degree.”  
  
Michael paused again, this time to see if Elizabeth wanted to contribute.  
  
“I suppose,” she allowed. “So you think the wizard that placed him there knows he’s neglected and also isn’t indifferent to his suffering. So then… why is he there?”  
  
“Why indeed,” Michael agreed. “If both of those things are true, the only thing that makes sense to me is that either that particular house or his relatives are somehow magically important to protecting him from something more harmful than the neglect. I could be wrong of course,” Michael said, “but what if removing him for the whole summer ruined some complex magical ritual that we simply don’t understand, Liz? I don’t think that’s a step we should take when we’re so ignorant of how magic works, and in particular, how whatever magic is at that house works.”  
  
Elizabeth nodded unhappily.  
  
“What if we discussed it with the children?” she asked. “Obviously they’ll know more about magic than we will.”  
  
“We might be able to do that,” Michael said, but his tone indicated that he didn’t think it was a good idea. “But then, they’re not even halfway through what the magical world considers basic magical education.”  
  
“We can’t just ignore the problem,” Elizabeth countered. “I don’t want to knowingly send that boy back to something that probably tears him up inside, even if he’s grown numb to it.”  
  
“I think,” Michael started, “that maybe we can go with the option we were talking about last night. The one about Diagon Alley.”  
  
“How would that help?”  
  
Michael sighed.  
  
“After dinner I’ll take Harry with me and we’ll spend the night in a hotel in London, then we’ll start on the plan we discussed. The apartment, the furnishing, the whole thing. I’ll spend a week with him setting it up and training him on how to be a Dom, but… I’ll alter it slightly.”  
  
“The training?” Elizabeth asked, intrigued.  
  
“Yes. Instead of starting with the guidelines, the persona, the mentality… I’ll start with the philosophy. The parts that most people figure out for themselves years later.”  
  
“Why?” Elizabeth asked, confused.  
  
“Because Liz, that part might actually teach him how to improve his own situation at the Dursley’s.”  
  
Elizabeth’s eyes widened and she studied him carefully.  
  
“You can’t move his body out, so you want to teach him how to move his mind,” Elizabeth said cryptically.  
  
“In a way,” Michael agreed. “What I want to teach him is exactly how people control other people. Not just in the lifestyle, but in all facets of life. Whoever placed him there has made a situation in which he has had to grow up and mature very quickly, but he hasn’t been given the tools to do that. I want to give him the tools. After a few weeks back with his relatives we can pick him up again. From what Hermione’s told us it seems that whatever sort of magic might be in place there only needs him to live at the house for a few weeks each summer, based on previous years.”  
  
Elizabeth was silent for a few seconds before responding.  
  
“You’re asking a lot of him, which is what every adult in his life seems to do.” She went silent again.  
  
“I know, pet,” Michael agreed. “I’ll explain my ideas to him once we leave tonight.”  
  
“Will this cut into the timeline we were hoping for?” Elizabeth asked.  
  
“That depends on him,” Michael said. “I’ll contact you tomorrow evening and let you know where things are at. I might need… a teacher’s aid the day after tomorrow.” Michael’s eyes held a gleam of mischief.  
  
Elizabeth giggled.  
  
“Master, please make sure you don’t kill the poor boy with embarrassment.”  
  
Michael was about to reply with his own witty remark when they both heard sounds coming from the top of the stairs. Turning towards the hallway together they watched as the two teens walked into the room, both of their faces slightly flushed and Hermione’s eyes looking down in front of her. They did not, however, seem to be upset with each other or avoiding each other, so Michael and Elizabeth took it as a sign that things went well.  
  
There were a few seconds of awkward silence where Hermione seemed to steel her resolve and Harry made an admirable effort to not look at either adult without seeming rude.  
  
“Harry would like to learn,” Hermione finally said softly.  
  
“Very well,” Michael said, walking over to the boy. “Harry,” he said gently. Harry looked up at the man, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s okay to feel weird, this isn’t something that teenagers usually get involved in. But I want to make it clear that you have nothing to be concerned about from either me or Elizabeth. We’re not going to expect you to be perfect at this, we’re not going to yell at you for doing things with our daughter, and we’re not going to force you to do things if you don’t want to.” With each word Michael spoke, Harry seemed to relax slightly. “I know that this has all been perhaps a shock, but we just want what’s best for Hermione and the people she cares about. That includes you.”  
  
“Dad!” Hermione admonished with a blush in a sort of whispered shout. Michael ignored her and continued.  
  
“You and I will spend a week in London. You’ll have a chance to ask questions, learn new things, and relax. We can even see some sights if you’d like. Have you ever experienced central London?”  
  
“No Sir,” Harry answered.  
  
“No need to call me Sir,” Michael said warmly. “You stopped doing that in the car ride over, don’t start again.”  
  
Harry pondered the conversation he’d had in the ride here and realized that by the end of it he had been having a much more casual conversation. Thinking back to that easy exchange, Harry realized that it had been with the same man that was standing in front of him now. On top of that, he had known the whole ride that he was driving Harry to have the conversation with Hermione, and what it was about.  
  
Harry felt himself relax fully after going over this in his mind. There really was nothing to be worried about right now. He didn’t have to hide anything from them because they had already known.  
  
“Let’s help set the table,” Michael said.  
  
The whole thing was quite surreal to Harry. The conversation he’d had with Hermione, what Mr. Granger wanted to teach him about, even the intimate feeling of the family meal he was sitting down for. He’d never gotten this feeling from a meal with other people before. It was… safe. Without expectation.  
  
Elizabeth brought the dinner to the table and they all started dishing up.  
  
Harry glanced over at Hermione as he began to eat, mulling several thoughts in his head.  
  
_Nothing in my life is normal._ For once, the thought didn’t feel so bitter inside him. _I don’t really understand this very well, but Mr. Granger said he could teach me and answer my questions. Maybe then I can figure out if this is something I actually want to do._  
  
“Why will you be going to central London?” Hermione asked, bringing Harry out of his thoughts. He looked at Mr. Granger and saw the man glance at his wife before answering.  
  
“You told us a few days ago about the adventures you’ve been on sweetheart,” Michael started. Harry felt guilty at this topic, realizing that he was the cause of most of Hermione’s ‘adventures’. “Well, your mother and I discussed it that evening and the next morning. Clearly there is something dangerous going on in the magical world, and it’s affected our daughter and her safety.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Granger,” Harry muttered, looking at his plate. Michael turned to the boy for a moment.  
  
“It’s not your fault, Harry.” Michael waited for Harry to look up at him before continuing. “From what we’ve heard, you haven’t been given very many choices in your life that would allow you to avoid the things that have been happening. You can’t be responsible for something you didn’t choose, Harry. The people who chose it for you are responsible.”  
  
Harry had never quite thought about it like that, and his mind connected it back to his conversation with Hermione.  
  
_What was it exactly? She said something about how most adults don’t have the ability to avoid a choice. She connected choice and control. Is that what this is all about?_  
  
Michael watched the boy process his statement and was pleased to see concentration on the boy’s face.  
  
“I think I understand, Mr. Granger.”  
  
Michael nodded and turned back to his daughter.  
  
“After hearing all of the details, we talked about it and agreed on a few things. First, we don’t think it’s coincidence that these things have revolved around Harry and his friends. We believe them to be connected in some way. If that’s the case, it would only be a matter of time before those same issues spread to us as well.” Michael paused to take a bite before continuing. “We don’t have any magic sweetheart, your mother and I, so if someone magical meant us harm there would probably be very little we could do to stop them.”  
  
“What does that have to do with going to London?” Hermione asked confused.  
  
“From what you’ve told us it seems like the only hope of protecting against magic is with more magic,” Michael answered. “Now while your mother and I can’t do any of that, not all of the magic you’ve told us about requires someone to be actively casting it. Right sweetheart?”  
  
“Right…” Hermione agreed, still not sure where this was going.  
  
“Well, your mother and I have decided to set up a magical home for ourselves. A place where we can set up the kind of magic that can protect us and protect you. While the events so far seem connected, they also seem to be in the background. That’s part of why so few people besides you two and your friend Ron have noticed them. While I’m helping answer Harry’s questions, we’re going to head to Diagon Alley, and he can help me investigate what options your mother and I have on this front.”  
  
Hermione’s eyes widened as her father finished his explanation.  
  
_That’s… very smart,_ Hermione thought. _If all of these things are part of something larger, then there might only be a short window of time before setting that kind of thing up may become difficult without attracting attention._  
  
Hermione felt her eyes water and dropped her head, a few sobs escaping. Harry looked at her in confusion and fear, feeling an intense concern well up in his chest at not knowing what was causing his friend such distress.  
  
“What’s the matter sweetheart?” Michael asked softly.  
  
“I…” Hermione sniffled and wiped her face. “I’ve been so worried… that learning all this magic, being part of this other world… would drive us apart.” She smiled even as her eyes remained red and puffy. “But you both want to learn more, and help keep us a family. Keep us together.”  
  
Elizabeth reached forward and grabbed one of Hermione’s hands firmly.  
  
“We will never make you go it alone, sweetie,” she said with a faint smile. “We told you when your letter came that we will love our daughter and stick with her, and that being a witch doesn’t change who your family is.”  
  
Harry looked between the three and felt a coldness deep inside him. He felt out of place. This moment seemed too personal for him to be there, and he felt very much like he was intruding upon something private.  
  
The coldness though was something that surprised Harry: jealousy. Hermione’s mother had just articulated something that Harry’s heart had desired above anything else, he had just never been able to put it into words. Parents that loved him no matter what he did or who he was.  
  
This was the second time in less than an hour that Harry had discovered a feeling he had inside that he’d been able to ignore simply because he couldn’t identify it. But like before, now that it was identified he could no longer push it to the side. Harry jerked his eyes away as Mr. Granger reached out and took Hermione’s other hand, willing himself to push that feeling back, deep inside him.  
  
_It’s not Hermione’s fault that I don’t have any kind of real family,_ Harry reminded himself. _You can’t hold it against her. She hasn’t done anything wrong. You should be happy for her._  
  
He felt something touch him and flinched, his eyes darting over. It was Hermione. She’d let go of her parents and reached out to hold his hand. His eyes trailed up from where their hands connected to her eyes and surprise filled him. He could see it in her eyes. She knew what he was thinking about right now. She knew that he was bothered and what was bothering him.  
  
Harry had learned from a very young age to not be emotionally expressive. When your emotions are never cared for or acknowledged eventually they become something private that just gets in the way of the things you need to do. Harry had always been an emotional person, he was aware of that, but he’d never really been able to talk about it with another person and could only really identify the emotions that matched things he’d experienced or observed while at school.  
  
Hermione though seemed to staring deep inside him to the parts of himself that were a mystery even to him. She wasn’t disgusted or afraid, she seemed… concerned. And sad.  
  
Harry gave her a weak smile and pulled his hand out of hers so that he could return to eating. He didn’t really participate in conversation for the rest of the meal, instead trying to work out all of the strange things he’d experienced over the last few hours and how they fit together. He was drawn back in though once the plates were cleared by a question from Mr. Granger.  
  
“Harry,” Michael started, capturing the boy’s attention. “Your things are still in the car, so you don’t have anything to gather. We need to leave soon since we still need to drive into London and find a hotel. Why don’t you say goodbye to Hermione while my wife and I take care of a few things upstairs.”  
  
Harry nodded in response, then slumped in his seat. The sounds of Mr. and Mrs. Granger climbing the stairs soon faded.  
  
“Harry?” Hermione’s voice ventured quietly. “Thank you.”  
  
Harry turned and looked at her. He couldn’t help but smile at how genuine her expression of gratitude was, and he was sure that she had more she wanted to say. He noticed her fingers fidgeting in her lap and looked back up at her face.  
  
“What’s the matter Hermione,” Harry asked, the signs of her anxiety obvious to him after so much time spent together.  
  
“I…” Hermione seemed to waver for a moment. “I want to give you a hug and… a kiss.”  
  
Harry was surprised at this. She had given him hugs before, and never hesitated to do so regardless of anything else. The mention of a kiss made him nervous, but he supposed from what Hermione had described upstairs that was only natural.  
  
“Why haven’t you then?” Harry almost kicked himself as soon as the words left his mouth. He was confused and wanted to clear up his confusion, but even he recognized that the question came out more as an accusation than an inquiry.  
  
“I’m sorry, Harry,” she said in a despondent voice. “I… we talked about the… control, right?”  
  
“Yes,” Harry agreed, taking care to use the most understanding voice he could muster.  
  
“And then, when we were coming downstairs. You gave me an order. Did that… help you understand a bit?”  
  
Harry couldn’t help his grin at remembering that moment. It had been pure instinct and nerve that had made him give her the instruction, but the feeling he’d had after she responded the way she did was… it was one of the nicest and most fulfilling feelings he’d ever had, and he’d known instantly that even if in the end he couldn’t manage to make this work out with Hermione, he was going to try as best he could.  
  
“Yes, it did.”  
  
“If we do this, you get to set the boundaries Harry,” Hermione explained. It wasn’t her lecturing tone, it was much closer to the tone she’d had after he’d given her the order.  
  
“What do you mean?” Harry asked. Setting the boundaries himself was certainly a new idea, and not an unwelcome one, but he didn’t quite follow what she was getting at.  
  
“I’m…” Hermione hesitated again. “I’m asking your permission to give you a hug. And… a kiss.”  
  
Harry watched her eyes dropped to her hands as she finished the explanation. Boundaries, control, choices… Harry felt like he was beginning to understand a part of the role that Hermione was asking him to fill and why she thought he might enjoy it. He was also starting to get the barest insight into why she might prefer the role that she did.  
  
“Er… how about this. I’m going to give you… another order,” Harry ventured. He felt extremely unsure about what he was doing, thinking that he was going to need a lot of answers from Mr. Granger before he knew what he was doing. But after he finished speaking he saw Hermione’s cheeks get that same rosy tint they had upstairs at the door, and that same goofy, small grin spread across her features. Her reaction generated a warmth inside him that he was so very inexperienced with, but he liked it, and he wanted more of it. It gave him the confidence to continue on with his order. “You can give me a hug any time you wish, just as long as it doesn’t interfere with something I’m doing.”  
  
“Yes Harry,” Hermione replied almost immediately. Harry’s confidence soared at the acceptance she was showing him, and he decided to continue. He was annoyed however that she was still looking down at her hands, as he needed her to be facing him properly for the next part.  
  
_I wish she would look up!_ Harry thought, trying to catch her gaze. _Wait… can I just… make her? Like before?_  
  
“Look at me, Hermione.”  
  
Her face rose, her eyes met his, and in them he saw such happiness and joy. That feeling so clearly painted on her face, and the indescribable feeling he got when she did what he told her to, steeled his resolve and he leaned forward. Before he could lose his nerve or the feeling inside that the new role he was playing seemed to generate within him, he closed the distance and gently pressed his lips against hers.  
  
They both stayed unnaturally still while their lips met. Neither quite knew what, if anything, they should be doing while their lips were touching, and the new feeling it sent through their bodies was so revelatory that it made it difficult to think about taking an action. This was… perfect.  
  
Feeling that perhaps it had been long enough, Harry slowly pulled back a few seconds later and their gazes met, seeing the reflection of thrill and discovery that each of them felt inside themselves in the other’s eyes.  
  
“Um…” Harry mumbled. “And… there’s your kiss.”  
  
Hermione’s face broke into an uncontrollable smile and her eyes became watery again before she reached forward and pulled him into a tight hug. This one felt much different to Harry that her hugs ever had before. Her face seemed to be fitting into the crook of his neck like a puzzle piece, instead of being simply pressed against his shoulder.  
  
“Thank you… Harry.”  
  
###  
  
The drive into London was fairly subdued, and Harry tried to organize all the thoughts and feelings that were swirling within him. Every so often Mr. Granger would point out something they were passing to Harry, but otherwise the man let Harry keep his silence. Before too long the car was pulling into a parking lot for a rather large and expensive looking hotel. Harry grabbed his trunk and followed Mr. Granger to their rooms after stopping by the front desk.  
  
“This one is yours,” Michael explained, handing a key to Harry. “Don’t lose the key.”  
  
Harry looked at it, unsure of how to respond.  
  
“I… get my own room?”  
  
“Of course, Harry,” Michael answered, leading them both to door which matched Harry’s key number. “I told you that I would be helping you with some of the control and confidence problems, right?” Harry felt uncomfortable at having that aspect of his life discussed so openly and shifted on his feet. “The first part of that is making sure that you are given the freedom to have your own space, your own privacy, and your own time. I don’t have a key to your room, Harry. I can only get in the room if you let me.”  
  
The situation felt strange for how different it was from what he was used to, but Harry also felt a kind of calmness fall over him and muscles that he hadn’t realized were tense began to relax. Harry put the key in and opened the door, pulling the trunk after him. He heard the door shut behind him and turned around in confusion. Was Mr. Granger still in the hallway?  
  
_‘I can only get in the room if you let me in’…_  
  
Harry set down the trunk and opened the door to find Mr. Granger still standing there.  
  
“Would you be willing to help me with the trunk?” Harry asked. Already he could tell the difference between his experiences between his teachers or his relatives and Mr. Granger. Harry wasn’t sure that the man truly understood how much that commitment to his word had meant to Harry, but Harry felt something begin to build with the older man that he’d never felt with an adult before: trust.  
  
“Of course, Harry,” Michael said, walking in and helping Harry relocate the trunk near the bed. “Er…” Mr. Granger’s unsure sound caused Harry to look up from the trunk where he’d been unpacking and his eyes snapped to movement outside the window where Hedwig was sitting on the window sill. “Have you received a letter?”  
  
“It’s Hedwig, my owl,” Harry explained with a smile as he went over to the window and opened it. It didn’t open very far, but it was enough for Hedwig to squeeze through. He ran his fingers through her feathers in affection. “You really are the smartest owl in the world,” he said softly. “You weren’t fooled at all by the change in plans at the Granger’s. Did you come straight here?”  
  
Hedwig hooted affectionately and nipped at his fingers slightly before hopping over to her cage. Michael watched with fascination as they interacted, seeing a side of Harry that he hadn’t observed before. A part of Michael felt like Harry had at dinner, that he was the odd one out on a family moment that didn’t include him. But the moment passed, and Michael straightened himself.  
  
“Well, I should get to my room,” he said to Harry. “Will you need help with anything else?”  
  
“No Mr. Granger, thank you.”  
  
“For the rest of the week, I want you to call me Michael,” he requested. Harry paused, then shrugged.  
  
“Alright Michael.”  
  
“I’ll see you in the morning. Set your alarm for 7, we’ll want to get an early start.”  
  
Michael left, and after a short while of just taking in the change in his circumstances, Harry laid down in the bed and went to sleep.  
  
The alarm woke him almost right away, being used to getting up early both at school and at the Dursley’s. Before long he was washed and dressed, ready for the day, and heard a knocking on the door to his room. Still basking in the independence this new situation provided him with, Harry answered the door to find Michael waiting patiently.  
  
“Good morning, Harry.”  
  
“Good morning, Michael,” Harry replied, stepping aside. “Would you… like to come in?”  
  
Michael smiled but shook his head.  
  
“I’m afraid that we should be going. It’s a bit of a walk to Diagon Alley.”  
  
Harry nodded, heading back inside to grab his wand, and joined Michael in the hall. Within a few minutes they were walking down the street, though Harry didn’t know where to. He reasoned that they must be heading for the Leaky Cauldron, but he didn’t know his way around London, and simply followed Michael.  
  
“Why do we need to visit Diagon Alley exactly?” Harry asked. “We haven’t gotten our supplies list yet, it’s only been a few days since we left school.”  
  
Michael nodded in agreement.  
  
“We’re going to look for some sort of real estate agent, or whatever might be the equivalent in the magical world,” Michael explained. “After that, we’ll visit some of the shops and inspect what sorts of magical devices might be usable to me and Elizabeth.”  
  
They made a few more turns down various streets before Michael spoke again.  
  
“During this week Harry, I’m going to give you a great deal more freedom and independence than you are probably used to. However, there are still things that I expect of you as the adult responsible for you at the moment.”  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
“What expectations do you have?”  
  
“We’ll spend mornings and afternoons together, either talking or training, but I will leave you to yourself for the evenings. If you want to make plans with me during the evening you may, but otherwise we’ll each enjoy some time to tend to our own interests and affairs. Does that sound reasonable to you?”  
  
Harry’s mind got a bit stuck on the word training, but he nodded at the question figuring that it was far more than he could hope to get from anyone else.  
  
“Er… Michael, what exactly are you going to be training me in?”  
  
They turned a corner and Harry saw the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron come into view.  
  
“Let’s get some breakfast and discuss it,” Michael answered, pointing ahead. They found themselves a more secluded and private booth, settling in while they waited for their food.  
  
“So…” Harry began, cutting into the silence.  
  
“Ah, yes,” Michael said, looking as if his mind had been elsewhere. His eyes focused in on Harry however, and the young wizard knew he now had Michael’s full attention. “Let me start by getting some of the things that may be bothering a young man like you out of the way.” Michael took a breath. “I am fully aware that what Hermione was discussing with you was very sexual in nature, and I have no illusions about the fact that if this works out you will probably see my daughter naked quite often. So there’s no point in harboring embarrassment or anxiety on that front.”  
  
Harry wanted to object. As hard as it may be for Michael to believe, despite the discussions he’d had with Hermione, Harry still hadn’t really thought through to the fact that this would lead to one of the key requirements to engaging in sexual activities: nakedness. The objection died before it reached Harry’s lips and his face grew hot.  
  
“I see,” Harry muttered instead. “Erm… how can… I mean, I know that I don’t know much about families, but I thought father’s were supposed to be… upset about that kind of thing? At least at our ages.”  
  
“I think you’re right, most would,” Michael agreed. “To be honest, what my wife and I are doing with you two is extremely unusual. There are many people who would find it to be very wrong.”  
  
“But… you don’t?”  
  
“Well…” Michael seemed to think something over before continuing. “Even I wouldn’t suggest this kind of thing to 14 year-olds most of the time. But as I’m sure you’ve come to realize being around her Harry, Hermione is… special.”  
  
Harry nodded and Michael spoke again.  
  
“She is more mature, and puts more thinking into the choices she makes than many adults do. I won’t go deep into the details, but I know there is little use in trying to stop my daughter from doing something she feels she needs to. I offered to train you Harry because if you decide to go forward with this, _you_ will be the only one who can stop her from doing something she shouldn’t.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Harry asked.  
  
“The largest responsibility of a Dom, Harry, is to protect their sub. Sometimes from others, sometimes from you, and sometimes from themselves. A sub usually enjoys following the directions of the Dom that they’ve submitted to. She’ll listen to you in a way that she won’t listen to anyone else, not even her parents. Do you understand what I’m saying Harry?” Harry remained silent, working through what he was being told. “The best protection I can offer my daughter is to help you learn how and when to reign her in. How and when to protect her.”  
  
Harry’s mind was racing.  
  
“That’s…” Harry paused. “A lot of responsibility.”  
  
“It is at that,” Michael agreed. “I need you to listen to her though, Harry. She should help you decide important things, like what to do with money. She’s good at that kind of thing, and you should take advantage of that.”  
  
Their food arrived shortly and after they had taken a few bites Harry spoke up again.  
  
“Michael, how am I supposed to let Hermione help me decide things if I’m also her… er… Dom. If I’m controlling her?”  
  
“Being a good Dom doesn’t mean depriving your sub of agency, Harry,” Michael answered. “It means their agency is subservient. Some people might not understand the difference, but it’s important. You can’t be afraid that letting her make some decisions or help with some decisions will ruin your credibility as the person that controls her. You need to be confident that she is yours even at the times that you’re letting her do as she pleases.  
  
“A Dom who punishes or controls a sub just for the sake of it is often insecure, and is using the feeling of power that comes with it to make up for their own insecurity. They are scared that they’ll lose control if they stop, and then the only thing they’ll be left with is the insecurity that made them want to be a Dom in the first place.” Michael eyed Harry carefully. “I think you have insecurities, Harry, and I want to teach you how to get past them. Many of the lessons about how to be a good Dom teach you how to be comfortable with the things you cannot control as much as the things you can.”  
  
“So,” Harry said, “sometimes a Dom will control someone because they’re insecure?”  
  
“Yes. Some Doms who act this way engage in far too much punishment. They try and create respect through fear.”  
  
“Hmmm…” Harry hummed. “Hermione mentioned something about wanting to be punished though.”  
  
Michael let out a short laugh.  
  
“I don’t doubt it. Some subs enjoy being punished, or feeling pain. It should always be _fair_ Harry. If you punish her, try and teach her something with it. Often a sub will want to be punished because the pain sort of… flushes the guilt out of their body.” Michael’s face turned more serious. “But you shouldn’t punish her to make her fear or respect you, because that’s not control.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Harry asked.  
  
“If you do that Harry, you’re not in control of yourself, and if you’re not controlling yourself, then you’re not controlling anything else either. What is the purpose in controlling someone simply because they fear you, or they worship you, Harry? Where is the joy or companionship in that?” Michael gave a moment for his statement to sink in. “The most fulfilling kind of control over other people is the control that they knowingly give you. When a parent begins to let their child make their own decisions for the first time, it feels exhilarating and wonderful to the kid. That’s because it was given to them by their parents willingly, and the parent does this because it is healthy and helps the child grow. If you ever control someone else Harry, sexually or otherwise, it should always be for the purpose of helping them grow more into the person they want to be. When you do that, they will want to give you control, and you will want to use it.”  
  
Harry felt like this was making a lot of sense of the things he had talked about with Hermione.  
  
“ _Any_ kind of control over a person,” Michael continued, “except for the control that is freely given, is an illusion. This Voldemort fellow that I’ve heard about from my daughter has that kind of control over people, the kind that is built through fear. But what would happen if someone took that fear away from people? Voldemort’s control would be gone. He also controls through hate, the hate that some wizards have for muggles, and that hate is also born out of their fear for what will happen to their lives, their traditions, their families, and their wealth.  
  
“If anyone could ever take that fear away from your world, or the muggle world for that matter, men like Voldemort would be reduced to nothing but a man-child throwing tantrums about how unfair life is.” Michael paused for a moment. “Fairness is, in fact, one of the main things that a lot of submissives get out of submitting. A good Dom might discipline them, even cause them pain, or push their boundaries, or make them uncomfortable. But so long as it is _fair_ , it is still often more fulfilling than the life they might lead if they made all the decisions for themselves.  
  
“Life _is_ unfair Harry, I think you know that better than most. To a submissive, their Dom can often shield them from the unfairness and anarchy of life. To a Dom, having someone depend on you for that kind of protection and guidance can be fulfilling and comforting in a life that you often have very little control over. But a submissive should never submit to hide from the world, and a Dom should never take out their anger at the world on their submissive. Those that do ultimately never find that completeness that comes from a person willingly giving you control over them.  
  
“Who has control over you Harry, and where does that control come from?”  
  
Harry was startled to have such a question directed at him so suddenly. He’d felt like a great deal of wisdom was being imparted on him, and had quite forgotten that he could engage in the conversation as well. That might actually be part of the reason Michael had asked the question, Harry reasoned.  
  
“My relatives have control over me,” Harry started, “and it comes from my… fear of what they might do, as well as the people that society says are responsible for me.” He thought about how to phrase the rest of his thoughts. “Professor Dumbledore has control over me, and that comes from my respect for him and what he has done, as well as the respect that other people have for him. My teachers have control over me, and that comes from their knowledge and the respect that it has earned, as well as Professor Dumbledore’s trust in them.” Harry paused again before adding one more. “And the Ministry has control over me, and that comes from their ability to arrest me, snap my wand, and throw me in Azkaban.”  
  
“I didn’t hear you mention Voldemort,” Michael commented. “Do you think he has control over you?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Where does that come from?”  
  
Harry say back and thought for a few moments. How exactly _did_ Voldemort control him? Through his past? But no, that wasn’t control, not from what they’d been talking about.  
  
“I guess… deception? He has control over me through his actions interfering in my life.”  
  
“That’s not control Harry, that’s cause and effect. Voldemort affects your life greatly, but I don’t think he controls it. His actions can impact you, but they don’t affect your actions or choices the same way that, for instance, your Headmaster’s might. Do you fear Voldemort?”  
  
Harry paused to really consider the question before answering.  
  
“In a way… I know that he is dangerous, and that he wants to harm me. But…” Harry paused. “I’m not afraid of the idea of him, not like I used to be. After second year when I met his memory, I knew that he was once just like me, a boy that was upset about his lot in life. But I don’t fear him really… I guess I respect the danger he represents. But it _feels_ like control. What is control, if not that?”  
  
“Control, Harry,” Michael began in a voice that reminded Harry very much of Hermione lecturing, “is the ability to choose. You don’t _have_ the ability to choose who your relatives are or how they behave. You don’t _have_ the ability to choose the policies of your school or how they impact you. Even though some choices are not good ones, you have more choices than I think you realize. You could choose to not attend Hogwarts, to not become a wizard. The effects of that choice would probably be very bad, but you _could_ choose that.”  
  
“No,” Harry disagreed. “I couldn’t. I don’t think Professor Dumbledore would let me.”  
  
“How so?”  
  
“Well,” Harry explained, “I don’t think he would let me decide to be a normal muggle if I wanted.”  
  
“So he would abduct you once a year and keep you at the school?”  
  
“Well… maybe.” Harry tried to consider how the eccentric man might react to such a situation. “I think he’d try to reason with me first, to change my mind.”  
  
“So he would defer to your _control_ of your choices first?”  
  
“I guess…” Harry agreed uncertainly.  
  
“But when he saw you insisting on making a choice that would cause you harm and saw you be unwilling to listen to the wisdom of not harming yourself, only then would he take that control away?”  
  
“Yeah, what’s your point?” Harry was actually starting to become a little frustrated with this line of thought.  
  
“That’s what good parents do Harry,” Michael replied. “They only exert their control when it becomes necessary to protect their child. Their first option is to try and teach their child to make choices that have a better outcome, and they only take that control away when it is necessary to prevent a choice that can’t be undone.  
  
“You may resent the control that people have over your life Harry, but I don’t think Dumbledore or anyone else are really controlling your life in a way that a good parent wouldn’t. The difference is that your life has been much more dangerous than most. They don’t have good choices to choose from for you, but they aren’t purposely making bad choices. When your child is in danger, protecting them often means taking away some of their control. I know that is unpleasant, but I think the real problem for you is that the things that are dangerous to you are so hard to protect against.  
  
“How is your government suppose to protect you from something they don’t think is real? How is your Headmaster supposed to protect you from your legal guardians?”  
  
“He put me with them!” Harry answered, his voice becoming raised. “He’s the one that left me there. They wouldn’t _be_ my guardians if he hadn’t made them my guardians.”  
  
“But you say yourself that you think Dumbledore would try and let you make the right choice first if he could. Do you think this is different?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Harry said, deflating slightly.  
  
“I think it’s the same,” Michael said. “Granted, he hasn’t explained it to you, and without the explanation it just feels like you don’t have control, but I think it likely he placed you with them to protect you from a danger that he had few ways of protecting you from. I said earlier that control through fear is an illusion. You said your relatives have control because of your fear, but you have it backwards. I don’t think you fear them. I think you probably have a lot of anger towards them, and resentment. What drives their control is their own fear. They fear magic, and they fear you, and they fear what others might think. _It_ controls _them_. They have so little control over their own lives that they take out that control on you. I told you earlier, taking out your frustration with the world on a submissive is wrong, but it is doubly wrong when done against your child or dependent, because they don’t have the choice to leave.  
  
“What do you think would happen if your relatives weren’t as afraid? If they had more control over their lives?”  
  
Harry remained silent to the question as he honestly had no idea, so Michael finished his thought.  
  
“I don’t think that any of this excuses their inadequacy as your guardians. This is not about fault, this is about understanding. You can only control the things you understand, Harry.”  
  
Harry thought on that as they got up from their meal and headed out towards the entrance to Diagon Alley.  
  
“I understand Hermione,” Harry offered as he tapped on the bricks, the archway beginning to appear.  
  
“No,” Michael disagreed. “You don’t. But you might, as time goes on. Now I am not here to teach you to understand my daughter, I am here to teach you to understand dominance. That’s the key, Harry. Being dominant isn’t about learning how to control the other person, it is about learning how to control yourself.”   
  
**Author's Note:**   
  
If you’re interested, you’re welcome to join me on my Discord server:  
  
<https://discord.gg/TQ25x5u>


	7. Discovery

Chapter 7  
Discovery  
  
###  
  
As Harry and Michael walked to the hotel, the sun starting to hang low in the sky, Harry felt a question that had been nagging at him all day. He glanced at Michael and decided now was as good a time as any.  
  
“Michael, you… Dom for Elizabeth, right?”  
  
Michael didn’t respond immediately, a bit surprised at the question.  
  
“Yes, I do,” he answered. “Did Hermione not cover that in your discussion with her?”  
  
“Not exactly…” Harry said. “The only thing she said is that… she’s… well, had sex with her mother.”  
  
“Ah,” Michael replied. “Well, that’s true. The same way that I’m training you Elizabeth has been training Hermione since the summer started. She asked us to.”  
  
“That seems… weird,” Harry confessed, sure that the man would be offended.  
  
“I can understand that,” Michael replied. “I mean, strictly speaking, it is weird. Anything that is far outside of what is normal is weird by definition, right? And that is certainly far outside of what is normal.”  
  
“Yes, but, don’t you and Elizabeth feel strange? About it… you know, being your daughter?”  
  
Michael glanced at Harry.  
  
“It’s not exactly _comfortable_ , but not really.” He paused. “It ends up being like… extra intimate mother-daughter bonding time. We want to make sure that Hermione is prepared for what she wants to do, and we want to protect her in the best ways that we can. If protecting our daughter requires us to do this, we’ll do it. We’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.”  
  
“So,” Harry followed up, “it’s… compassion? And nurture?”  
  
“Not in general,” Michael answered. “I think that the vast majority of the time, incest is… not nurturing. But in this case, yes.”  
  
“And Elizabeth is the one that does it?”  
  
“Yes, she controls and teaches Hermione how to fit into the role of the sub she wants to be.”  
  
“But _how_ exactly?” Harry asked. “I mean, I get that Hermione wants to be controlled, but I don’t have a single idea on _how_ to control her. What I would tell her to do.”  
  
“That depends very much on what her limits are,” Michael answered as they turned a corner. “Do you know what limits are?”  
  
“Er… not specifically, no.”  
  
“Limits are like… a line that the sub doesn’t want you cross. It’s a particular activity or type of control that they don’t want to give to their Dom.”  
  
“What are Hermione’s limits?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Michael answered. “She knows what a limit is, but she hasn’t set any with Elizabeth so far. She hasn’t backed out of any instruction she’s been given.”  
  
Harry thought to the book Hermione had given him as they left her room. Supposedly it was a sort of encyclopedia of sexual activities, detailing different types of things that people sometimes do together. She’d assured him it was quite accurate. He’d have to spend this evening going through it before bed.  
  
“Can you… give me some examples?” Harry asked. “Things that you do to Dom Elizabeth.”  
  
“Well,” Michael started, “she prefers to have a Master/slave dynamic.”  
  
“A _what_!?” Harry was sure he’d heard wrong.  
  
“A Master/slave dynamic,” Michael repeated. “It’s where the Dom behaves as if the sub is their property, a thing they own. In the case of my wife, she prefers to do that with no limits at all.”  
  
“So… she won’t say no to anything?”  
  
“Not exactly,” Michael answered. “It’s more like… she thinks that anything I would be _willing_ to command her to do, she’d do. If I told her to do something that was obviously harmful, she would refuse. For instance, if I told her to go stand in the middle of traffic until a car struck her. But I would never give such an absurd order, and she knows I wouldn’t, so she doesn’t need to set a limit for it.”  
  
“So it’s more like she trusts you,” Harry deduced.  
  
“Yes, though it’s a bit more than that,” Michael replied. “She certainly trusts me, but anyone who submits has to trust their Dom, that’s a core requirement for a healthy Dom/sub relationship. Having a no-limits relationship is more like… she trusts that when I tell her to do something she doesn’t want to do that it will be a positive thing overall in the end.”  
  
“And that’s what a Master/slave dynamic is?”  
  
“It can be, but a Master/slave dynamic speaks much more to the way in which orders are given than to what the limits are.” They turned another corner and Michael continued. “We engage in something a bit more rare in this sort of lifestyle called Total Power Exchange. For instance, she’s not allowed to raise her voice to me.”  
  
Harry looked over at Michael curiously.  
  
“You mean she’s not allowed to get angry at you? How does that work?”  
  
“No, she can be angry with me, but she always has to use a tone that shows respect. She also usually calls me Master, even in everyday conversation, and I sometimes call her pet.”  
  
“That’s it?” Harry asked.  
  
“No,” Michael said with a chuckle. “There’s much more than that. She wants to be treated like my property, like I own her body. But if I own her body then she shouldn’t be allowed to _use_ her body without my permission.” Michael glanced over and saw the look of confusion on Harry’s face. “Do you own something that you value greatly?”  
  
“My broom, a Firebolt,” Harry answered immediately.  
  
“It’s yours right? So how would you feel if someone nicked it from your things and went flying with it, even if they returned it later in perfect condition?”  
  
“I’d be upset that they took it without asking,” Harry answered.  
  
“Exactly. Elizabeth wants me to act like that, only with her body. So she has to ask permission to masturbate or have an orgasm.” Michael saw Harry beginning to comprehend his point. “If her body was my property, then I would want anyone else, even her, to ask before using it for something.”  
  
“So she’s like a thing you own?” Harry asked.  
  
“You don’t ever truly own people, Harry. She’s still a person, the same as you and me.” Michael paused. “It’s like playing a game that never stops. The rules of the game are that we both act as if she really _was_ my property, but even if the game never stops, it’s still a game that she’s simply choosing to play.”  
  
“I…” Harry trailed off as they turned the last corner and the hotel came into sight. “I think I understand.”  
  
“If you feel like you still don’t understand tomorrow morning, please let me know Harry,” Michael stopped at the door to the building and looked at Harry seriously. “No matter how much you end up enjoying being the Dom, and no matter how submissive or happy or compliant Hermione seems, you must never forget that she is a person who has value. Hermione may want to submit to you in a Master/slave dynamic with no limits, but if she does _you_ need to be the one that decides if that’s really a good thing for her. She may only think she is ready for that.”  
  
Harry nodded gravely, understanding the seriousness of this lesson.  
  
“Now,” Michael said opening the door. “I’m going to invite Elizabeth to join us tomorrow morning. She’ll serve as an aid for me to demonstrate some of the things I’m going to teach you.”  
  
“Alright,” Harry said, but then his brain caught up and he froze. “Wait… you mean like… with being a Dom? With the… er… sex stuff?” Michael nodded and Harry turned pale. “Naked?” Michael nodded again. Harry looked down and started whispering to himself. “I’m going to… see Hermione’s mom naked?”  
  
“Not if you don’t want to,” Michael said. “Remember what I said Harry, you won’t be forced to do something that makes you too uncomfortable or that you don’t wish to do.”  
  
_Not if I don’t want to?_ Harry thought. _He’s asking me if I WANT to see his wife naked? Surely this is a trick._  
  
“Will she… er… be okay with that?”  
  
“Remember Harry… no limits.” Michael watched as Harry frowned before he let out a chuckle. “Elizabeth and I already discussed it, Harry. She agreed it was a good idea to help teach you some of the finer details about the female body and give you some actual demonstration.”  
  
“Oh…” Harry commented dumbly. “Well… okay then.”  
  
“Go on up to your room, Harry,” Michael said with a smile. “Remember, the evening is yours to do with as you wish.”  
  
###  
  
Harry awoke the next morning just as early as his first day in the hotel, but within moments he felt the anxiety of the previous night creep back in. He’d spent the evening going over the book that Hermione had given him, reasoning that it would be best to actually understand what sort of things were possible to do during sex before a ‘live demonstration’ occurred. It was the prospect of actually having to do some of these things that was making Harry anxious however. He was sure that he would do something wrong and upset either Michael or Elizabeth, or else make a fool of himself.  
  
Harry washed and dressed to prepare for the day then simply sat on the bed. He thought about pulling out the book and reading some more, but decided that would probably just muddle things even worse at the moment. He didn’t end up having to wait long however, as soon there was a knock at his door. Opening it to find Michael standing there Harry couldn’t muster the ability to hide his anxiety on his face, and didn’t even invite Michael in.  
  
“Come with me Harry,” Michael said. Harry followed feeling like he was in a trance and entered into another hotel room after Michael did. The inside looked much the same as Harry’s room, though he’d half expected to see some of the crazy equipment the book had described, but the room had nothing more remarkable than a suitcase that sat in the corner. “I can tell that you are very nervous Harry. Would you like to explain why?”  
  
Harry swallowed a few times, relaxing a bit once he had confirmed that Elizabeth wasn’t in the room.  
  
“I… I just have no idea what I’m doing,” Harry said. Michael opened his mouth to reply but more words spilled out of Harry’s mouth. “I’ve never seen a girl naked before, at least in person. Dean had some magazines, and Dudley has had one or two I’ve found before. But it’s also Hermione’s mom, and it’s your wife, and I don’t know what I’ll do. What if I do it wrong? What if you get angry? What if I like it _too_ much?”  
  
Harry had rambled on, not thinking about what he was saying, though that last one was a thought that hadn’t run through his head the night before. Michael held up his hand.  
  
“Harry,” he said, slowly and gently. “The whole reason that it’s Liz and I here to help you is because it will be okay if you do something wrong. Neither of us have any expectations of you Harry. If you want, you can walk out the door right now, we won’t be disappointed in you. You could spend the entire day in here with me and my wife, or you could decide you just want to watch and learn that way. You could ask questions, you could ask us not to say anything and just let you silently become familiar with her body. Today, whatever it is that you are most worried about with this, you can face it without judgment or expectation.”  
  
Harry took a few deep breaths.  
  
“What if I go too far, and do something that neither of you appreciate? What if I don’t go far enough, and make a fool of myself?”  
  
“Today isn’t about what Liz and I do with each other, Harry. It’s not a competition, there’s not some goal you need to reach or some barrier that you can’t go past. If you want to do something or see something and you’re worried it goes too far you can ask me if it’s alright. I promise that no matter what you ask for, even if I tell you that it’s something we shouldn’t do, I won’t get angry with you for asking.” Michael made sure Harry was looking him in the eyes before he finished. “You can’t discover what any of this might mean to you if you don’t ask, Harry. Asking to learn is not something either of us would ever look down upon. Surely you can believe that given how Hermione behaves.”  
  
Harry thought about that. He hadn’t considered that they had obviously raised Hermione, and that the fact they had spoke somewhat to their own dispositions. Hermione was always asking questions, even when the situation made it awkward to do so. Harry saw the sincerity in Michael’s face and it reminded him of how he’d felt when they’d first arrived at the hotel and Michael had kept his word. How he had felt that unique feeling of trusting an adult well up inside him. That same feeling welled up now, calming his nerves.  
  
He would probably never find another two adults that would so earnestly want to help him, certainly not with this topic. No matter how uncomfortable he was now, Harry suspected that the only way the feeling would be lessened would be by confronting it. It was how Harry had always dealt with his problems, diving in head first, and with a chagrin realized that wasn’t going to change today.  
  
“Thank you Michael,” Harry said softly. “That helped. I’d like to try. I’d like to learn.”  
  
Michael watched Harry for a few moments before nodding.  
  
“Alright Harry. Do you have anything you want to ask or discuss before I bring in Elizabeth?”  
  
“What?” Harry asked, startled. “She’s here?” Harry glanced around the room again but they still appeared to be alone.  
  
“I put her in the bathroom to wait while we talked,” Michael said, pointing to the closed side-door near the entrance. Harry felt an immediate embarrassment, for many reasons. That the woman was so close and this was really happening, as well as that he was making her wait.  
  
“Sorry for making her wait,” Harry muttered quickly.  
  
“Don’t worry,” Michael said with a chuckle. “She will wait in there as long as I want her to.”  
  
Harry paused, then nodded slowly.  
  
_Michael talked about this yesterday,_ Harry thought. _Their dynamic, and how limits work between them._  
  
“Now,” Michael continue. “As I said, do you have anything you want to ask or discuss before I bring her in?”  
  
Harry thought a moment before asking.  
  
“You explained yesterday about how the two of you deal with limits,” Harry started. “How it was based on trust and mutual understanding.” Michael nodded to show he was following along and Harry continued. “But I still don’t really know you or Elizabeth much, and I can’t see how she could have that kind of trust or understanding with me. I certainly know that I don’t understand her well enough to know where her actual limits are, so… how are we… handling that?”  
  
Michael looked at Harry with an expression that was more pleased than he had ever seen on another person’s face.  
  
“I think,” Michael said, “that you are not quite as lost or out of your depth as you may think, Harry. That question shows that you really understand some of the things I told you yesterday, and it makes me very confident that you will be good at this if it is something you find you have an interest in.” Michael paused and smiled at Harry. “It was such a good question in fact that it was something I was going to explain to you even if you hadn’t asked, meaning that you’re already thinking about some of the things you should be to be a good Dom. She has a safeword for today Harry. That word is ‘mercury’. If she says that word, we will both stop whatever we are doing and free her from any kind of restraint she might be under.  
  
“It is also possible that she won’t be able to speak however. In addition to her safeword, if I ever tell you to stop, I need you to do so right away and without questions or hesitating. Do you understand?”  
  
“Yes Michael,” Harry said, feeling a bit of his nervousness return.  
  
“If I tell you to stop, it’s not because I’m angry with you Harry. If you somehow cross a line we don’t want you to, it’s not your fault since you didn’t know where the line was. Liz has very few things that would qualify as a limit, but we both agreed that one thing should be off-limits for reasons unrelated to willingness.” Michael paused to ensure Harry was paying attention. “How much you want to directly participate is up to you, and you don’t have to do anything yourself. But if you choose to directly participate, we both agreed that you should not cum inside her cunt.”  
  
Harry startled badly at that, unused to hearing such language from the usually cultured man.  
  
“That’s another thing to get used to Harry,” Michael said with a grin. “In sexual play, the more uncouth words are often more… exciting. My wife enjoys humiliation, though I dare say not as much as Hermione appears to. While we are here, one of the things that she will enjoy is if we are using rough or humiliating language with her. Like I’ve said several times, you don’t have to, but I imagine it will be easier to get over that embarrassment with us than it will with Hermione or someone else.”  
  
Harry thought the man was probably right. He also thought that it didn’t make the prospect any easier.  
  
“Is there anything else, Harry?”  
  
Instead of feeling rushed or pressured, the question put Harry a bit more at ease. He knew now, from this conversation and the ones he’d had before, that if he had more questions Michael would patiently answer them.  
  
“No Michael.”  
  
“Very well.” Michael straightened up and gave Harry one more look. “No matter what I want you to keep in mind that both Elizabeth and I are doing these things willingly and enjoying what we are doing.”  
  
Michael let the words hang for a moment then began walking towards the bathroom door. Harry stayed where he was and felt his heart begin to thump.  
  
_This is really happening,_ Harry thought just before Michael opened the bathroom door. Harry couldn’t see into the bathroom from the angle he was at and waited as Michael stepped in. Harry heard a few things move about, then heard what sounded like some small bells, and then saw Michael step back through the bathroom door into view. Harry was confused for just a moment, until he saw the leash in Michael’s hand and barely a second late Elizabeth followed Michael out crawling on all fours, completely naked except for the collar the leash was attached to.  
  
Harry felt his face instantly heat up and looked away in reflex. Michael stopped next to him and Harry could feel the presence of Elizabeth in front of him.  
  
“It’s okay Harr—”  
  
Elizabeth’s words had drawn Harry’s attention automatically and he’d looked at her face just in time to see her silenced by Michael’s strong slap across her face. The strike made her stagger to the side slightly, but since she was already on all fours she was able to remain upright. As she moved, a peculiar jingle sounded and Harry’s eyes, wide in surprise, automatically moved to the source seeing that there was a small bell attached to each of the woman’s nipples through a piercing of some kind.  
  
“You will not speak unless you are spoken to while we are here,” Michael said firmly.  
  
“Yes Master,” she replied immediately, her head bowed.  
  
“You know how to ask permission to speak,” Michael continued.  
  
“Yes Master,” Elizabeth intoned again.  
  
“Demonstrate for Harry how you let us know you want to say something.”  
  
Harry watched, still somewhat in shock, as Elizabeth wiggled her chest back and forth causing the small bells attached to make their melodious sounds.  
  
“Good girl,” Michael said with a pat on her head, sounding satisfied.  
  
Harry was still stunned, but now that his eyes had already been drawn, and given the… interaction he’d just observed, his indoctrinated fear for Elizabeth’s modesty couldn’t overcome his curiosity any longer. He took in each part of her body slowly, though the fact that she was both facing him and on all fours obscured large parts of her body. Michael, who had apparently been watching Harry, seemed to notice at the same time Harry did.  
  
“Cunt, move to position three.”  
  
Harry watched in a kind of surreal fascination as Elizabeth immediately leaned back so that she was sitting on her heels and spread her knees apart, placing her hands behind her back. Harry could not _believe_ the things that he was able to see. There was not a single inch of the woman’s front that wasn’t casually open to inspection, and he found his eyes slowly going over each of them.  
  
The tightness in his pants that had momentarily been shocked into the background by Elizabeth’s disciplining was returning with full force, and Harry shifted a bit, uncomfortably. Perhaps he should have worn something looser, although then it would be much more obvious that he was hard.  
  
One of the things that Harry quickly noticed was that the woman had almost no hair anywhere the he could see other than her head. He had known that hair in… other places might be something he encountered, as there had been parts of the book that had talked about that. Of course, he had suspected that to be the case before reading the book anyway, as he had some hair of his own in certain places, and a few of the pictures from the magazines he had mentioned had showed girls with some hair.  
  
“Does…” Harry almost felt startled at hearing his own voice speak out, still somewhat adjusting to the strange circumstance, but he remembered what Michael had said only minutes ago. “Does she naturally have no hair?” Harry pointed at her center and looked at Michael.  
  
“She gets it waxed every so often,” Michael answered. “It removes the hair. Everyone eventually gets some amount of hair in that area of the body at least, and women often shave or wax their legs to keep them smooth.”  
  
“Wax?” Harry asked. “Like candle wax? How does that remove the hair?”  
  
“No, it’s a wax that melts slightly differently,” Michael explained. “You melt it on to the areas where the hair is, and then you use a special strip of cloth. The wax hardens as it cools, and you pull the strip back really fast. The wax comes with the cloth, and the hair comes with the wax. It pulls all the hairs out at once.”  
  
Harry’s eyes widened in horror.  
  
“That sounds… horribly painful.”  
  
Michael gave a short laugh.  
  
“It’s definitely painful, but it’s not quite as bad as you might think it is.”  
  
Harry continued his inspection and asked another question.  
  
“Do you use wax as well Michael?”  
  
“I have before,” Michael answered.  
  
Harry looked back up Elizabeth’s body and noticed that she was actually looking up at the ceiling, showing him her full neck.  
  
“Why is she looking at the ceiling?”  
  
“This is a specific position I’ve taught her before, Harry. You remember I told her to get into position three?” Harry looked over at Michael and the man continued. “Everything about the position her body is in right now is specifically what she is supposed to be doing when in position three. She is looking up because one of the things we use this position for is attaching the collar.”  
  
Harry looked back at Elizabeth and saw that, indeed, this position made it very easy to observe and access the collar that was around the woman’s throat.  
  
“Can I… ask her questions too?” Harry asked, uncertain.  
  
“Of course,” Michael replied. “I told her that she couldn’t speak _unless_ spoken to. If you ask her a question, she will answer it.”  
  
“Can I give her… a direction?”  
  
Michael smiled at Harry.  
  
“As I told you, you can participate as much as you are comfortable.” Michael turned and looked at Elizabeth. “Cunt, unless I tell you otherwise you will follow any direction Harry gives you.”  
  
“Yes Master,” she said automatically. The voice startled Harry slightly, and he realized a part of him had forgotten that she had heard all of his conversation with Michael so far.  
  
_I see what Michael was saying,_ Harry thought. _About being treated like property, and the danger of forgetting that someone is a person. It took me only a few minutes to forget that she could even hear me when she was… obeying in that way._  
  
Harry didn’t quite know how he felt about that, or what he thought it meant about him.  
  
“Er… Mrs. Granger, lower your head please.”  
  
Elizabeth lowered her head to look straight forward without any hesitation, but she seemed to have a small frown on her face. Harry glanced over at Michael, but the older man was also frowning, although his frown seemed to be directed at Elizabeth.  
  
He looked back at the woman and her face was neutral again, though still looking straight forward.  
  
“Did I do something wrong?” Harry asked softly, uncertainty in his voice.  
  
There was a moment of silence before Michael answered.  
  
“You mean her frown?” Michael replied. Harry turned to the man and nodded slowly, feeling more and more sure that he’d messed something up. “Why don’t you ask her?”  
  
Harry turned and faced Elizabeth.  
  
“Mrs. Granger… why did you… frown?”  
  
“I’m sorry to have bothered or worried you Harry, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Elizabeth started immediately. “I’m just… much more used to be called slut, or cunt, or whore in this setting than Mrs. Granger. I’m also more used to being given a firm order, rather than a please and thank you. There is nothing wrong with what you did or said though, if that is how you’d prefer to do it, I just didn’t expect it.”  
  
Harry glanced at Michael, half expecting to witness another slap across the face, but the older man was instead looking amused. When he noticed Harry’s expectant look, he quirked his eyebrow.  
  
“What is it, Harry?”  
  
“I… uh… I don’t know, I guess I thought you might… slap her again for doing something wrong.”  
  
Michael paused and looked thoughtful for a second.  
  
“Did she do something wrong?” Michael asked. Harry looked unsure, so Michael elaborated. “It’s not a test Harry, I’m asking your opinion.”  
  
“No,” Harry answered, thinking how to explain for a few moments. “It was a very small reaction, and she said that she was very used to something different. I know when something I’m used to is suddenly different, I get at least a small frown. I guess… the only reason that we’re even talking about it is because of how nervous I am.”  
  
“I’ll let you in on something Harry,” Michael said. “When we came out and Elizabeth spoke out of turn and I slapped her, that was something we both planned ahead. She is far too well trained and obedient to make that kind of slip up, and when we are engaging in this sort of play, she is well aware of the rules including when she is allowed to speak.  
  
“We figured that no matter what I said, you would still be nervous at the start, and that something like that might shock you out of your nervousness. It would also give you an example of setting rules and discipline, though both the rules and the forms of discipline are things that we have discussed previously.”  
  
Harry stared at the man for a moment then let out a short laugh.  
  
“It definitely got me over my nervousness quickly.”  
  
Harry and Michael’s attention was captured by a small jingle, and Harry’s eyes widened as they were uncontrollably drawn to the utterly hypnotizing sway of Elizabeth’s breasts. Harry stared and the room was silent.  
  
“Harry?” Michael prodded. Harry jerked his eyes away and looked at the man.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
A few more seconds passed.  
  
“She just asked if she could be allowed to say something,” Michael continued. “Are you going to let her?”  
  
Harry’s face flushed as he realized that they’d both been waiting for him to let her speak while he’d been staring at her breasts. He looked down.  
  
“Go ahead, Mrs. Granger,” Harry muttered.  
  
“Harry, why don’t you try giving me the order you did before, only this time you can be more rough and commanding. Then you can compare how you feel about both and decide which you prefer.”  
  
Harry looked up and saw that Elizabeth was now looking at the ceiling again, before turning to Michael for some kind of confirmation.  
  
“If you feel up to it,” Michael said to the unasked question. “You don’t have to of course, but it will probably be difficult to know if you are alright with using more crude language if you never try.”  
  
Harry looked back at Elizabeth and tried to think of what he would say. He focused, thinking over everything that he had seen, and heard, and discussed, and felt so far. The feeling he got when he was firm with Hermione before, the way Michael talked to Elizabeth. Harry thought about exerting his will, the same way that some magic required. That feeling of being unbendable and firm and resolute. Harry kept building that feeling inside him, his eyes narrowing and his confidence focusing. He became less aware of Michael standing next to him, and when he felt that feeling, that need to express his will upon reality that Transfiguration required of you, his voice snapped out in a very different tone than he was used to.  
  
“Cunt! Eyes forward!”  
  
Harry’s eyes widened as Elizabeth’s face snapped down. He even saw a shadow of a smile on her face, and a great feeling well up inside him that was something like accomplishment mixed with pleasure. He _knew_ that she had enjoyed that more. He didn’t know _how_ he knew, but he was certain it was true. And knowing that she had enjoyed it sent a thrill through him that he hadn’t felt before when he had asked politely. It certainly wasn’t something he was used to… but now, Harry _wanted_ to get used to it.  
  
“Open your mouth,” Harry said firmly, still riding that focus and feeling. The reaction was immediate, and Harry knew for the first time, really _knew_ , that he wanted to do this. He wanted to share this kind of activity with someone who appreciate the other side of it, and there wasn’t anyone he would _rather_ have that be than Hermione.  
  
No matter what he felt about his own ability or confidence, he would work at it and commit himself to the things Michael was teaching him, because he wanted to be the reason that same small smile flitted across Hermione’s features. He wanted her breath to hitch because he took control of her the way it had at her door.  
  
Harry looked back at Michael for a moment who was smiling at him, then turned his attention to Elizabeth once more. He felt completely at ease now. They really did want to help him, and they really did want to teach him. They weren’t judging him, they were supporting him, which he couldn’t recall any adult ever doing for him in his life before. They allowed him to be embarrassed without calling attention to it, but they also made sure he knew that there was nothing to be embarrassed about with them.  
  
“Shake your chest,” Harry said, trying to conquer what remained of his embarrassment with Gryffindor boldness. Elizabeth did so immediately and he watched her chest sway back and forth without apology for several moments, transfixed by the beauty of her curves in motion. Michael let out a genuine, good natured laugh, and Harry couldn’t help the goofy grin that spread across his face.  
  
Harry’s eyes glanced up at Elizabeth’s face, her mouth still open. She looked ridiculous in a way, but he saw the hint of red on her cheeks and realized what Michael had been talking about before. About how Elizabeth got off on being humiliated, and how it made her feel. She _liked_ that Harry was making her look ridiculous right now, and she _liked_ that Michael was laughing at her for it.  
  
Harry couldn’t help himself, hearing Michael’s reaction was infectious, and a short laugh escaped him also. Her chest had finally come back to rest.  
  
“Tongue out,” Harry told her. “Shake it again.”  
  
She did without any hesitation, and looked even more ridiculous this time. Harry couldn’t contain his humor and let out a deep, earnest laugh that seemed to redouble Michael’s. After several moments, when the jingling had stopped and her chest was once more still, Harry spoke again in a light, happy voice.  
  
“Go ahead and close your mouth.”  
  
Elizabeth’s tongue retracted and her mouth snapped shut, the expression on her face one Harry had never really seen before on anyone. It was similar to embarrassment, but it held a certain need that Harry was unfamiliar with.  
  
“What does the look on her face mean, Michael?” Harry asked. Michael stopped laughing and looked at her, breaking out into a more subdued chuckle before answering.  
  
“It means that what you made her do got her horny, and she’s embarrassed that it made her aroused.” Michael chuckled again. “If you were to check she’s probably wet right now.”  
  
“Wet?” Harry asked in confusion.  
  
“Yes,” Michael answered, his voice calming into his gentle tone of explanation. “Many women produce a slimy, slippery liquid in their cunt when they become aroused. It’s a natural thing that happens because lubrication is necessary for sex to work properly.” Michael motioned towards Elizabeth. “Do you want to check?”  
  
“Er…” Harry glanced back towards Elizabeth, his eyes focusing on her enigmatic folds. “…How?”  
  
“The easiest way is usually to check with your hands.” Michael bent down and motioned for Harry to join him. Harry felt his heart race again, but this time it felt more like excitement than embarrassment. “You see here?” Michael was pointing to the bottom of her folds. “That’s where the opening is, the one that’s used for sex. Where the cock goes.” Harry faltered slightly at the unexpected vulgarity, but then, he needed to get used to that if Michael and Elizabeth were to be believed. “Up here,” Michael raised his finger near the top of the folds, “is where the clit is. It’s like a giant bundle of nerves that only exists to make her feel good.”  
  
“They… I mean…” Harry fumbled for a second but focused again, his eyes not leaving the woman in front of him. “We learned all of this in the class about sex, you know? In school? But it’s really different actually… seeing it…”  
  
Michael chuckled once more.  
  
“Yes it is,” he agreed. “So, as I was saying before, while it’s not the only way to tell, often when a woman is aroused it will be wet here.” Michaels finger was now pointing back at her entrance. “Cunt, give us a better view,” Michael said distractedly.  
  
One of Elizabeth’s hands came from behind her back and Harry watched as she used two fingers to spread her folds apart. Harry simply stared, far too fascinated to have time for embarrassment. Inside the folds it was violently pink, a color Harry though made her look injured.  
  
“Is she okay? Is it supposed to be that color?”  
  
“She’s fine,” Michael told him. “The color of this part comes in many shades. Some are more pink, some are red, and some are more dark. All of that is normal Harry.”  
  
“Which is Hermione?”  
  
For the first time that Harry had ever seen, Michael visibly faltered, looking quite surprised and even… embarrassed by the question?  
  
“Sorry,” Harry said immediately, “I just assumed because—”  
  
“That’s alright Harry,” Michael reassured, though his voice sounded like it was actually rather unpleasant for him. “I don’t know the answer to that question as only Elizabeth is training her, not me.” Michael looked up from their position near Elizabeth’s crotch. “Cunt, answer his question.”  
  
“Pink, Master,” she said.  
  
Michael turned to Harry, still looking a little uneasy.  
  
“Well, now we know.”  
  
Harry nodded, feeling strange at what had just happened. A part of him felt mortified that he’d caused that kind of reaction in Michael, who he was now considering a mentor and teacher, but another part of him felt comforted that even this collected man who always seemed to hold the right answer could still experience the type of insecurity and foolishness that Harry had been worried about. It made him feel better about his own reactions.  
  
“Now,” Michael said, trying to move them forward. He was pointing towards Elizabeth again and Harry focused. “You can see here that the entire inside looks very wet and shiny. That really only happens when she is definitely aroused. Sometimes the entrance can become wet even when she’s not horny, but the whole area only really gets wet when it’s arousal.”  
  
Harry took in as many details, fascinated by what he was seeing and learning. He decided that this part of women was much more intricate and detailed and complicated than his own equipment, but he rather liked how it seemed so… full of depth and mystery.  
  
“Would you like to touch it?” Michael asked. Harry glanced over at the man. Yes, he did want to reach out and touch it, but that had seemed perhaps a step too far. Of course, then he thought about the one limit Michael had actually expressed before bringing Elizabeth out, and realized that they were both prepared for him to go much further if he was so inclined.  
  
Harry reached forward, one finger pointed in front, and before he could think it through much further pressed against the pink, shiny, smooth looking skin that Michael had said was her opening. Harry’s finger went about an inch inside before he realized that his finger could just keep going, and pulled back in surprise, his ears catching a short change in Elizabeth’s breath.  
  
“It’s so _warm_ ,” Harry said in surprise. He looked at his finger, which was now also shining. “And wet.”  
  
“Yes,” Michael said. “When she gets aroused more blood travels here. With more blood comes more heat.”  
  
Harry leaned back, shifting uncomfortably. Michael leaned back and looked at Harry with a frown.  
  
“Are you alright Harry?”  
  
“Yeah, it’s just…” Harry shifted again and comprehension dawned on Michael’s face.  
  
“Ah. Do you want to take off your clothes so that they don’t get in the way anymore?”  
  
Harry felt his uncertainty return. It was one thing to see someone else naked, but it was another thing to be naked. He knew he would have to get past that block to do what he wanted to though.  
  
“Just… my pants for now I think,” he said. He stood up and before he could change his mind, removed them leaving his bottom half covered only in his boxers. His hardness was painfully obvious with only the thin fabric covering it, but Michael seemed to pay it no mind and Elizabeth was still looking forward, so Harry forced himself to relax a bit.  
  
“Would you like to taste her juices?” Michael asked, startling Harry.  
  
“Er… is it… clean?”  
  
“It’s not bad for your health if that’s what you’re asking. As long as your partner maintains good hygiene there’s not much to worry about, and Elizabeth is _required_ to maintain good hygiene.”  
  
“Ah.” Harry looked at the folds which were still being spread apart by Elizabeth’s fingers. “How do I taste it?”  
  
Harry supposed that in the proper position he could put his mouth on it directly, that was something that the book had talked about after all, but with the position that Elizabeth was in Harry didn’t think there was room to get his mouth there.  
  
“Get some on your finger and lick it off,” Michael suggested simply.  
  
Harry tentatively reached forward, once more feeling the unbelievable heat of Elizabeth’s core, but this time instead of recoiling in surprise he moved his finger around slightly hoping to ensure there was enough to taste. His eyes widened in surprise as a soft noise escaped Elizabeth’s mouth while his finger moved.  
  
_It’s getting her off,_ Harry realized. _I’m… masturbating for her I guess?_  
  
Harry pulled his finger out and was somewhat amused at the sigh that Elizabeth let out when he did. Focusing on his finger he brought it to his face and gave it a sniff. It was a pungent, musky odor, but definitely not unpleasant. It wasn’t quite like anything else he had ever smelled before. Harry supposed the smell was closest to sweat, but it was still very different, even from that.  
  
Harry opened his mouth, put the finger inside and swirled his tongue around it. It was tangy, and sweet, and a little… something else. Sort of metallic, but not quite. That same musk was present, but it was also a flavor he was unfamiliar with. All together it was a fairly enjoyable flavor.  
  
He pulled out his finger and looked at it for a second before looking at Michael.  
  
“What do you think?” the older man asked.  
  
“Umm… pretty good…” Harry replied, not quite sure how to put it into words. Michael nodded, seeming to understand his dilemma.  
  
“Alright, now let’s familiarize you with everything else.”  
  
They spent the next hour or so with Michael instructing Elizabeth into various positions. In each of them Michael pointed out places on her body and explained little details about the variation that occurred between different people, and some of the things that you could do to that section of the body as part of your… fun. By the time they were finished Harry had well and truly shed his hesitation, and was interested in experimenting with some of the things he’d read about the previous night.  
  
“Michael?” Harry started.  
  
“Yes?” The man looked at Harry, unsure of what the boy wanted to ask about.  
  
“Would… it be alright if I had her… do some things?” Harry shifted a bit. “Hermione gave me a book to go over and I was reading it last night, and well… I feel pretty comfortable now.”  
  
Michael opened his mouth as if he were about to say something before pausing and glancing at Elizabeth. Michael looked back at the boy.  
  
“Sure Harry. I’ll stay out of your way, but I’ll be right here if you have any questions. You can ask her questions also.”  
  
Michael stood up and backed away, sitting in a chair on the other side of the room. Harry turned to him and furrowed his eyebrows, not sure of how to convey what he was thinking. He wanted Michael to be close by, but he also didn’t exactly feel… comfortable with just being watched. After watching Harry struggle for a few seconds, Michael spoke again.  
  
“Do you want me to look away, Harry?”  
  
Harry looked guilty for a second, but then realized that Michael hadn’t been asking in a way that sounded upset or angry, merely curious.  
  
“Maybe… read a book or something? I just… need a few minutes to get comfortable I think.”  
  
“Of course,” Michael answered, reaching onto the desk in the room and opening that morning’s paper. Harry’s heart raced and he turned back to Elizabeth. She was now lying flat on her back staring up at the ceiling arms by her sides and legs straight, the position they’d had her in for their final part of the anatomy lesson. Harry cast one more glance back at Michael, and seeing him still buried behind the paper, reached down to take off his boxers.  
  
It was absolutely exhilarating and terrifying to be so exposed with other people present. Harry thought he understood just a fraction of what Elizabeth had felt exposing herself to him now, and it made him so impressed and thankful for her help that his breath shuddered for a moment.  
  
“Cunt, spread your legs.”  
  
Her knees lifted back and apart until they were up by her shoulders and Harry marveled at the fantastic view it gave him. He leaned forward and began to inspect her once again, this time alone, like an adventurer discovering new lands that he’d heard another man tell stories about. It felt different to be looking at his own pace without someone else pointing things out.  
  
He was incredibly grateful for the wealth of information that Michael had shared with him, but this was nice in a very different way, and he immediately appreciated the feeling of doing it on his own instead of having someone metaphorically holding his hand.  
  
_Michael gave me proper instruction, but when I asked, he let me take control,_ Harry realized.  
  
They had told him what they wanted to do, what they wanted to teach him. Harry had understood the idea of teaching him about sex, and anatomy, and things like that, but he hadn’t quite understood how they planned to teach him _control_ and _confidence_ until now. They weren’t going to abandon him and make him figure it out alone, but when he asked them to they would allow him the independence he wanted. It was all the benefits of being taught without the feeling of being confined.  
  
He had never felt so appreciative of anyone as he did Elizabeth and Michael right then.  
  
Harry dipped his head forward, stuck out his tongue, and gave her pink folds a lick. She shuddered as soon as he touched her, and that same pleasant taste filled his mouth. Harry looked up her body to her face and saw a look of concentration.  
  
“Make whatever noises you want,” Harry said, before turning back and giving another lick. He had expected perhaps a moan, or squeak. That’s what he had imagined would come out in his head, anyway. What he heard instead was something that he found simultaneously extremely arousing and startling.  
  
“Fuuuuck,” Elizabeth let out in a breathy, throaty sort of voice. “Thaaank youuu…”  
  
Harry wasn’t sure if it had been on purpose, if she had somehow known, but reflecting on it later he didn’t think there was any other noise she could have made that would have made him feel more confident in what he was doing.  
  
He lowered his mouth and began to lick in earnest and listened as Elizabeth started to emit all kinds of moans, groans, and quiet words of encouragement and thanks. After several minutes of experimentation, Harry felt like he had a good grasp of what he’d read in the book and what Michael had explained to him during the lesson. He was getting the hang of how to stimulate her clit, and what exactly it did, and even how to vary his actions to keep the sensations fresh and enjoyable, something the book had indicated was important.  
  
He leaned back, unconsciously licking his own lips clean, and stared at her for several seconds.  
  
“Use your hands,” Harry said.  
  
Elizabeth rolled forward into a sitting position and started to reach for his exposed and erect cock.  
  
“No,” he said, and instantly she froze. “On yourself.”  
  
She looked up at him confused for several seconds.  
  
“Harry,” Michael called out. Harry jumped, he’d almost completely forgotten the man was there. Turning to look at Michael, he saw the man was still completely hidden behind his paper. “You should punish her for hesitating to follow an order.”  
  
Harry looked back at Elizabeth and saw that she was flushed and looked frustrated with herself.  
  
“How?” Harry asked, turning back to Michael.  
  
“Well, you could discipline her the way I did if you want, but I understand if that’s not what you want,” Michael said, turning the pages on the paper. “Really, anything that you think will get the point across to her that she has broken a rule and failed in her role.”  
  
Harry turned back to Elizabeth and saw that she was looking at the floor, her features somber.  
  
“How do you think you should be punished, cunt?” Harry asked in an almost conversational tone.  
  
“The way I punish Hermione for hesitation,” her voice coming out in almost a mumble. “Pinch my nipples hard and then give them a twist.”  
  
Harry’s mind was immediately filled with visions of Hermione experiencing that, and his cock twitched involuntarily.  
  
_Dear God, I understand why this is so fucking hot now._  
  
Harry reached forward, but paused.  
  
“They’re pierced,” Harry observed. “It’s it dangerous to do that?”  
  
“It can be if you are too rough, Master,” Elizabeth replied. There were a few seconds of silence as both Harry and Elizabeth blushed furiously at her automatic naming of him. “Sorry Harry.”  
  
“No…” Harry choked out. “Er…” Harry’s imagination was running wild. “How about… Young Master… for the rest of the day.”  
  
“Yes, Young Master.”  
  
A few more seconds of silence passed.  
  
“You were saying?” Harry prompted.  
  
“It can be dangerous with the piercings in if you twist too hard, Young Master, but I suggested it because it is how Hermione expects to be punished for hesitation.” Elizabeth paused again. “If you are a little gentle with me you can get a feel for what this type of punishment is like. You can twist a little harder with Hermione because she isn’t pierced.”  
  
_Yet._  
  
The thought hit Harry’s mind before he even realized the context of it. His eyes widened and his face reddened, but he quickly realized that neither Michael or Elizabeth were looking at him right then.  
  
Slowly Harry reached out again and his fingers closed on either side of her nipples. Slowly he began to apply more and more force, being careful to watch Elizabeth’s face, until finally she gave a nod. There was a grimace on her face, it was clearly uncomfortable, but she wasn’t making any noise. He slowly began to twist ever so slightly until he saw her give another nod and released his fingers, causing the bells to jingle.  
  
“Hesitation will be punished,” Elizabeth said. “Thank you, Young Master.”  
  
She began to reach down towards her cunt, which Harry noticed was absolutely dripping wet at this point, but Harry reached forward and grabbed her wrist.  
  
“No, tell me why you hesitated.”  
  
Elizabeth shifted before answering.  
  
“I just… with what you were doing, and having Master sit over in the corner and look away… I had expected you to put your cock inside me.” Elizabeth bowed her head. “I’m sorry Young Master, it’s not my place to think.”  
  
That statement halted any thought in Harry’s mind.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“When I am fulfilling my purpose, and being useful, and this body is pleasing someone, it is my job to follow directions, not have an imagination about how it should be used.” She paused. “It belongs to someone else, and they are letting you borrow it, and I was overstepping my bounds.”  
  
Harry thought for several moments, still holding her wrist.  
  
“I’m always open to ideas and information,” Harry said slowly. He focused his eyes on her face and used his other hand to lift her chin and make her look at him with a grin. “But you know how to ask for permission to speak, cunt. Try that next time.”  
  
Harry felt a thrill of victory as the much older and incredibly experienced slave in front of him responded with a full blush.  
  
“Yes Young Master,” she whispered.  
  
“I will answer your question though,” Harry said, letting go of her wrist. She looked at him confused.  
  
“What question, Young Master?”  
  
“Why I’m not… er… fucking you,” Harry said, almost tripping over the phrase. Elizabeth nodded in understanding, waiting for him to continue. “I think I would definitely enjoy it, and Merlin knows that I really want to. Probably all those hormones they warned me about in school. But this,” Harry continued, pointing at his cock, “is not something I would use on you before I get the chance to be with Hermione, no matter how much I would like to.”  
  
Harry saw a mixture of shame, and embarrassment, and happiness bloom over her face, and she ducked her head.  
  
“Yes Young Master.”  
  
Harry sat back and pointed.  
  
“Now cunt, lie back down and play with yourself until you cum. I’m really curious to see what it looks like.”  
  
Harry watched in fascination as she complied. He took in every stroke and motion with the curious eye of a student, sometimes leaning in close to inspect something he couldn’t see from another angle. Within a few minutes, Elizabeth’s voice rang out into the room.  
  
“I’m close Young Master. Do I have permission to cum?”  
  
Harry leaned in, only inches away, intent to get as good a view as he could. Elizabeth shuddered as she felt his breath on her, nearly falling over the edge at knowing just how close he was and how exposed to him she was.  
  
“Yes,” Harry said softly. Elizabeth gave a few final small circles and felt her orgasm begin to rip through her, but she focused as hard as she could and managed to move her hand so that Harry’s view wasn’t obstructed.  
  
Harry was consumed with what he saw. Her cunt and ass both seemed to… pulse, and pucker, and he saw small muscle contractions rip through her seemingly at random. It looked almost violent in some ways, and extremely peaceful in others. After several seconds the movements stopped and he heard Elizabeth’s voice again.  
  
“Thank you for letting me cum, Young Master.”  
  
“You’re welcome, cunt,” he answered absently. He took several more seconds, taking in the smell and sight, before leaning back and turning towards the man in the chair who was still reading the paper.  
  
“Michael?” Harry called out. Michael slowly lowered the paper and looked at Harry. “Thank you… for giving me that space to get comfortable. And for the instruction earlier.” Harry paused, then motioned towards Elizabeth. “I have other things I read about in the book that I’d like to go over, but I think I could do with your instruction now.”  
  
Michael smiled and stood up, walking over to join Harry.  
  
By the end of the afternoon Harry felt like a different person almost. A completely different world had been shown to him, Pandora’s box was opened, and he was sure of one thing: by the end of this week, he would be ready for almost anything Hermione wanted.  
  
Michael had been right: dominance hadn’t been about controlling Elizabeth, because that wasn’t hard. Elizabeth wanted to be controlled. It was about controlling himself, so that he could find the ways to satisfy her that also gave him enjoyment and satisfaction. If Elizabeth hadn’t been willing, if Michael and him had to try and _forcibly_ control her… Well, Harry was certain he wouldn’t have been capable of that, and even if he had, he understood now that he would find no enjoyment in it.  
  
It would be empty, and cold, and he would be scared the whole time of losing control of the situation. He understood now how it was different, fear and control. Learning be a Dom wasn’t teaching him to enjoy those things, it was teaching him why those things could never truly be enjoyable, even if he didn’t object to them morally.  
  
Nothing he had ever experienced before could even compare to having someone willingly give that control to him, and it was the fact that the trust was given willingly that made it so satisfying. Harry wasn’t scared anymore, and he wasn’t embarrassed. He was excited.  
  
Harry returned to his room when the afternoon ended and immediately pulled out the book he had shelved the previous evening. He wanted to look into some of the things he’d been too anxious to read about last night, and re-read some of the things he’d read before now that he had actual experiences to interpret the words with.  
  
For the first time in his life, Harry sat down and truly began to study something that interested him.  
  
###  
  
**Author's Note:** I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. It's explicit but also clinical in some ways, so I can understand if it isn't quite as sexy as some people would like. Just please bear with me here.

This is all building towards having the right foundation for full on fun between Harry and Hermione.

Reviews are always appreciated.  
  
If you’re interested, you’re welcome to join me on my Discord server:  
  
<https://discord.gg/TQ25x5u>


	8. Culmination

Chapter 8  
Culmination  
  
###  
  
**WARNING:** This chapter contains scenes with descriptive and emotionally charged physical violence. It is possible that some readers may be uncomfortable reading it at parts, or that some people with past trauma may find the scenes triggering.  
  
###  
  
The door latched shut and for several seconds the room was silent except for Elizabeth’s heavy breathing. _Fuck,_ she thought, _that was a lot more difficult than I expected._ She had spent the whole day, essentially eight straight hours, being teased by Michael and Harry. Oh yes, she’d been allowed to cum a few times, but right after it was always back to the teasing.  
  
It wasn’t exactly on purpose, that hadn’t been the point of the day, it was merely a side effect of what her body was being used for. It didn’t help that she got off so much on humiliation.  
  
“Pet,” Michael finally broke the silence. “What do you think?”  
  
“It’s difficult to think, Master,” Elizabeth replied, still panting. She glanced up at him from where she was, kneeling at his feet, and saw him quirk his eyebrow. “I’m… very worked up.” She finished.  
  
“Seems Harry did a good job then,” Michael said with a chuckle. “Tell me about it from your perspective, why you’re so worked up.”  
  
Elizabeth paused, knowing that he would want her to be exact in her words.  
  
“Being the… sex doll… that a teenage boy gets to work out all his questions, and curiosities, and ideas on… it was the most humiliating thing I’ve experienced in a long time, Master.”  
  
“I see,” Michael said, nodding. “It makes sense why you’re still so worked up then. When you get home, have Hermione deal with it for you.”  
  
“Yes Master,” she agreed, dropping her gaze.  
  
“Let’s sit down on the bed,” Michael suggested. “You can cool down a bit and we can discuss our thoughts on Harry’s first experiences.”  
  
Elizabeth nodded and stood, walking into the bathroom to get herself a cup of water. Giving herself a long stretch, she glanced at herself in the mirror and smirked. She had an excellent figure for being 41, her tits were still pretty firm and her skin was still fairly even. They weren’t quite as perky as her daughter’s, but any middle-aged woman comparing her body to that of a teenager just coming into her female form was going to be disappointed on that front; it was a pointless comparison. Hair was disappointingly bushy and unmanageable unless she put in a great deal of effort, something Hermione had inherited.  
  
Still, she had felt such an inner pride and joy at how entranced her body had made Harry. He had been completely captivated by her form, and had obviously found her very attractive and sexy. Michael and her usually stuck to each other, although there were times where they played with or involved others. She didn’t need anyone’s attention or approval except his, but it was still nice to feel desired and appreciated.  
  
Her eyes glanced at the small bells still hanging from her nipples and she smirked again. Harry had found that particular aspect very appealing and amusing. It was one of the few things he had directly expressed appreciation for with words throughout the day.  
  
_Poor Hermione,_ Elizabeth thought. _She has that fear of needles too. Harry’s going to want hers pierced for sure._ Elizabeth paused and thought about Hermione’s tits for a moment. _I guess I would also if it was up to me._  
  
She set down her empty cup and went back out into the hotel room, sitting down next to Michael.  
  
“Why don’t you go first, Liz,” Michael said softly. She glanced at him for a second. Whenever he called her by her name, it always meant that they needed to focus on what they were talking about before they could relax into their dynamic again. It was also his signal to her that the rules were suspended for a while. After so long together, enjoying each other’s perversions and company, such subtleties were like neon signs.  
  
“He’s going to make Hermione very happy, Michael,” Elizabeth said with a faint smile.  
  
“You think he’ll decide to go through with it?” Michael asked, intrigued.  
  
“You didn’t notice?” Elizabeth asked him surprised. “He decided tonight. Maybe I only noticed because he was looking at me.” She paused. “By the end of the night though, even though he was looking at me, I don’t think it’s me he was seeing.”  
  
“And you think that Hermione and him will fit well?”  
  
“I do,” Elizabeth answered. “He was getting very good at the actual pleasuring part.” She lowered her voice into a mutter. “Perhaps a little _too_ good at the teasing…” She shifted slightly. “But while you were reading the paper Michael… that’s when he really started to understand the control and humiliation and power exchange part. It was like…” She searched for the right words. “I could see in his expression that suddenly something Hermione told him made more sense. That he felt like he knew what to do then.”  
  
“That’s interesting,” Michael mused. “I suppose I was so focused on instruction that I was missing these parts.” He thought for a moment back to the things they’d gone over that day. “He got very good at maintaining the right headspace, and how to act towards a sub that wanted to be controlled. He was getting good at the little things. It’s honestly kind of amazing.”  
  
“You should tell him that, Michael,” Elizabeth implored. “I think that today was a big boost for his confidence and nerves, but I don’t get the impression that people congratulate him on a job well done very often.”  
  
“No,” Michael said, “probably not.”  
  
Several seconds passed and Michael spoke up again.  
  
“How does his style fit in with what you know of Hermione so far?”  
  
“Honestly?” Elizabeth pondered her answer. “To go through this accelerated plan we had, I’ve been keeping Hermione horny _all_ the time so that she’s in the right mindspace _all_ the time. She won’t be quite as willing to spend _all_ day sucking cock and stuff like that once training is done, not like she is now. But then, I don’t think Harry will want that _all_ the time either.” Elizabeth giggled. “They are hormonal, horny teenagers though. That’s why we’re giving them a week to themselves.  
  
“But still, if anything I think that when she’s in the mindspace, she’ll want more humiliation and degradation than Harry will want to give her at the moment. They’ll have to work that part out on their own though. We’re just giving them the tools, not making the relationship for them.”  
  
“And you think that’s the only thing? Humiliation and degradation?”  
  
“No,” Elizabeth sighed. “I think Hermione has had years of thinking about this topic to fantasize and build up expectations. I think that however far Harry wants to go, Hermione is probably curious about just a little further. But as people? As partners? Yes, I think they’re a very good style fit.”  
  
“That part will even out though after the first few days,” Michael commented. “And once Hermione really explains to him what she wants, I think Harry will probably give it to her.”  
  
“What about protection?” Elizabeth asked.  
  
“You mean contraception?” Michael said, confused.  
  
“No,” Elizabeth said. “I mean do you think Harry will be able to protect her. The whole reason we agreed to do this for Hermione was to help her find that safe place, that emotional refuge. Do you think Harry can do the nurture side of being a Dom? That isn’t something we covered today.”  
  
“I do,” Michael answered. “I’ll be more sure as the week goes on, but at this point I’m fairly certain.”  
  
“Good,” Elizabeth said, letting out a large breath. Then she gave a small snort. “Contraception.” Elizabeth gave Michael a teasing smile. “In what universe do you think _Hermione_ would need to be reminded to avoid getting pregnant at 15?”  
  
Michael gaped for a second then let out a laugh.  
  
“Obviously not this one,” he agreed.  
  
“Should we still do the punishment demonstration at the end of the week?” Elizabeth asked, a small grimace on her face. Being the model for that session was going to be decidedly less pleasant.  
  
“Are you still willing to?” Michael countered. Elizabeth sighed, then gave him a resigned look.  
  
“ _Master_ , in the 22 years we have been engaged in all of this, 16 of them married, I have not once refused you anything.”  
  
“Liz,” Michael said, “you and I both know that’s because of how we work together, but this isn’t just me, and this isn’t me giving you a punishment you earned. This is raw demonstration, and with another person. You know I wouldn’t be _at all_ disappointed if you refused. I have other ways to teach him.”  
  
“I want to do this, Master,” Elizabeth replied with more force, a determination filling her features. “I’ll be here that day. Make it hurt, let me cry, then do it all over again until your lesson is finished.”  
  
“Liz…” Michael croaked, his voice strained. “This… what you proposed is going to be very difficult, even for you. Eight hours of punishment… when you’re not even trying to get over any kind of emotional guilt or baggage… I just don’t feel good about it.”  
  
Elizabeth’s faced morphed into one of concern.  
  
“You know Master, you’re allowed to have limits too…” she reminded him. “The Dom can safeword.”  
  
“I know, it’s just… it’s overwhelming when I’m reminded how much you trust me. It’s not often that happens anymore, because it’s all so routine now, but when it does it’s powerful.”  
  
“ _Routine_ am I?” Elizabeth glared at him. She reached out and even after it had happened, it took Michael a few seconds to realize he’d just been slapped. He looked at Elizabeth absolutely astonished and saw she was wearing a pleased, impish grin. “There, now you have something to punish me for at the end of the week,” she said sounding satisfied. “Maybe you forgot, _Mike_ , but I am somewhat of a masochist too.”  
  
Michael could not recall the last time Elizabeth had struck him in any way. It definitely hadn’t happened even once since Hermione was born. The pleased smile she had on her face told him that she wasn’t angry though, she was _teasing_ him. It had been a long, long time since he’d felt this kind of exhilaration and excitement, and that feeling was so powerful that it drowned out any anger or indignation he felt.  
  
“Be here at 7,” Michael said in a steely voice. “I need to prepare you for punishment before Harry joins us.”  
  
Elizabeth, who seemed to come back to herself, felt her eyes widen and her face heat up.  
  
“Yes Master.” She paused. “Master, I…” She trailed off, not sure what she wanted to say.  
  
“You’re sorry?” Michael supplied, amused now.  
  
“Yes Master, I’m sorry.”  
  
“No slut, you’re not yet,” Michael said. She looked up at him, feeling almost like a teenager again when she saw the hungry and demanding expression on his face. “But you will be.”  
  
_Fuck,_ Elizabeth thought, feeling the muscles in her pussy clench. She got up to leave. _I need to get to Hermione fast.  
  
_ ###  
  
Hermione was a nervous wreck. Mistress had left before Hermione had even woken up to go into the city and meet with Harry and her father. She hadn’t told Hermione exactly what would be happening, but it had been pretty clear that her Mistress was going to be the teaching tool for Harry’s ‘hands on’ training. Would it go well? Would this be what convinced Harry that being dominant wasn’t for him? Would it be too awkward? Had Harry read the book she’d sent with him? If he read the book at least he’d be prepared, but what if he hadn’t? Would her father have enough patience to teach him if Harry was starting from nothing?  
  
The questions came… and came. There were no answers. There were no distractions either, which Hermione found endlessly vexing. She knew how to focus on her school work through any kind of distraction except worry for someone she cared about. Nothing had ever really been able to calm her down from that. Well, nothing except… what happened the other day.  
  
When Mistress had made her eat Mistress’ cunt for hours, it was like her mind had finally understood that it was okay to turn off sometimes. It had been such a wonderful feeling, a comforting feeling… a feeling she desperately wanted right now.  
  
_But Mistress isn’t here,_ Hermione thought. _No one who can use me is. I just… want it to stop. There’s nothing I can do about any of these thoughts, so there’s no point in dwelling on them._  
  
Hermione had been thrown head-first into the deep end of all this, although she certainly knew what to expect going in, but this was the first time that she had had the chance to really miss it. She needed the order, and the comfort, and the simplicity of just being a slut. Of being used. Of being able to shed all other expectations and worries, and focus on being something that brought pleasure to someone else.  
  
She had known that she wanted this, needed this, but now she knew something else: there was no going back. Mistress had even said something like that to her before it started. If Harry wasn’t able to fulfill her needs, what would she do? She’d be a shell of a person without _someone_ willing to participate, but if Harry couldn’t… she feared she might make some bad choices. Would she ever reach the point of lowering her standards just to find someone?  
  
_Quiet!_ Hermione forced through her mind.  
  
“Stupid slutty brain…” Hermione muttered under her breath, trying to focus on the parchment in front of her. She _had_ actually gotten quite a lot of her work done today, despite her mind’s current… handicap. She was in the middle of revising the last of her potions essays, when the familiar sound of the key in the door snapped her eyes up from the kitchen table.  
  
She bolted towards the door and was bouncing in front of it when it opened.  
  
“How’s Harry?” Hermione spat out as soon as the door cracked, causing Elizabeth to flinch slightly as the sight of her daughter came into view. Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed, and then she turned and glanced behind her, before looking back at Hermione with a smirk.  
  
“Did you forget that I had you naked all day slut? Trying to give the neighborhood a nice show?” Hermione turned pale, then blushed, jumping out of view of the doorway and Elizabeth closed it behind her. “What if I’d brought a guest home with me, hmm?”  
  
Hermione looked down, embarrassed and chastened.  
  
“Did you get much homework done, slut?”  
  
“Yes Mistress, most of it.”  
  
“Good, because for the rest of the evening…” Elizabeth leaned in towards her daughter’s ears and dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’m going to use your mouth like the fucking slut you are.”  
  
Hermione turned rosy, but it was excitement that gave her color. This is what Hermione had been craving all day long.  
  
“Yes Mistress.”  
  
“Follow me,” Elizabeth said, walking towards the stairs and shedding clothes as she went. Hermione hurried after and by the time they got to Elizabeth’s and Michael’s room, they were both quite naked, and whether or not they both knew, quite wet.  
  
Hermione watched as Elizabeth dug into a drawer and pulled out a small vibrator, tossing it to Hermione. The younger girl caught it with surprise, and watched her Mistress lay down on the bed and spread her legs.  
  
“What are you doing over there?” Elizabeth said with some edge. “Get your mouth where it fucking belongs!”  
  
_Fuck,_ Elizabeth thought. _I’m a lot more wound up than I realized._  
  
Elizabeth hadn’t meant to be quite that coarse with Hermione, but watching the girl as she almost stumbled over herself to get in position, it didn’t seem Hermione minded too much.  
  
_We’re both probably worked up too mu—FUCK!_  
  
Hermione hadn’t waited for a moment, and as soon as her mouth was in range had started in on the task with enthusiasm.  
  
“Christ, slut,” Elizabeth muttered. “You’re better at this than Harry is.”  
  
Hermione’s first thought at hearing this, disappointingly when she thought about it later, was: _I’m the best!_ But then she’d realized what her Mistress had said, and felt both her face and cunt heat up.  
  
Hermione stopped mid-lick without even realizing it.  
  
_Harry… used his mouth on Mistress?!_  
  
“Don’t stop, slut,” Elizabeth warned. Hermione startled and got back to work. “You want to hear about Harry’s day, slut? Is that what you’re so anxious for?” Elizabeth couldn’t help but tease the poor girl some.  
  
Hermione merely moaned into Elizabeth’s cunt, which sent unexpected and quite pleasurable vibrations through her.  
  
“Mmmm…” Elizabeth moaned, letting out a relaxed sigh. “Here’s the rules for tonight, slut. The vibrator is for you. Your mouth is for me. You may cum once for every time that I do, after I do, and you’ll keep doing what you’re doing until I tell you otherwise. While you do, I’ll tell you all about Harry’s day.”  
  
Elizabeth waited a few seconds, just enjoying the sensations, then heard the quite buzz of the vibrator being turned on.  
  
“You really are better at it than him,” Elizabeth commented. “Though I suppose you have more practice.” An evil grin spread across Elizabeth’s face as she looked down at her daughter, busy at work. “Maybe the two of you can find some girl you can both take turns on with your mouth at school.”  
  
Even with her face half buried, Elizabeth could still see the fierce blush spread across Hermione’s cheeks. To her daughter’s credit though, she didn’t stop.  
  
“Awww…” Elizabeth said in mock concern. “Does slut want a nice cunt to eat when she leaves Mistress? Is she going to miss being a little lezzie whore?”  
  
She couldn’t hear it, but Elizabeth could definitely feel the small groan that passed through Hermione’s mouth.  
  
The comments, and the question, were doing _terrible_ things to Hermione. After her first experience pleasuring Mistress, she had concluded that at the very least she could find other women sexually attractive, but now… she knew it was deeper than that. She _did_ want a cunt to eat while at school, even though she _also_ wanted to be Harry'a.  
  
“Mmm…” Elizabeth could feel herself getting close. “That’s it slut, I’m almost there…” She panted softly, feeling the sensations flow outward, and the coil inside her beginning to tighten, but her daughter’s efforts didn’t falter at all. A few seconds later Elizabeth felt her legs start to shake gently and the coil inside snap, leaning her head back and basking in the waves of pleasure.  
  
“Good girl,” Elizabeth said with a pat on the head. Even then, Hermione continued. “Now…” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Let me put your mind at ease slut. Harry? That apple of your eye? The boy you’ve been furiously fantasizing about?” Hermione’s eyes shifted up to look at her Mistress, even as her mouth continued to work. “He is going to completely and utterly own you. You don’t stand a chance.” Elizabeth saw the desire burn inside Hermione’s eyes as they stared up at her. “He is an absolute natural. You know what my name was all day for him? What he was calling me whenever he wanted to talk to me?”  
  
Elizabeth paused then pushed her hips up slightly.  
  
“Cunt. ‘Shake your tits, cunt’, ‘open your mouth, cunt’… would you like that? Do you wish he was calling you those things?”  
  
Elizabeth watched Hermione’s eyes flutter slightly and knew a shiver had just gone down her spine.  
  
“Oh, he will if you let him. I have no doubt in my mind, when this week is over, Harry is going to walk through that door and give you the choice to be his, or to be incomplete, and I don’t think he’ll even get to finish his offer before you accept once you see him.” Elizabeth paused. “By the end of the day he was so confident. He had the headspace down very well, and he knew just how to control me, and humiliate me, and let me know that he could do whatever. He. Wanted.”  
  
Hermione groaned into Elizabeth’s clit again, and she let out a hiss at the unexpected sensation. Hermione was staring at her Mistress with such intensity.  
  
“Are you close, slut?” Elizabeth asked. Hermione… sort of nodded, at least the best she could without stopping. “Then let me help you finish your first one of the night. Early in the day, he gave me an order to ‘use my hands’. I reached forward to grab his hard cock, as instructed. But he stopped me.” Elizabeth smiled, seeing that Hermione was completely focused on what she was saying. “I was confused. He told me he meant me to use my hands on _myself_ while he watched, but he wanted to know what had confused me.” Elizabeth paused again, enjoying the blatant anticipation.  
  
“I told him that I had expected him to want to fuck me, to see what it was like to put his cock inside a cunt. ‘Isn’t that what every teenage boy wants?’ I thought.” Hermione was giving Elizabeth a hungry look now. “You know what he said? He said that of course he wanted to do that, and he was certain he’d enjoy it. But then he gave me a serious look, pointed to his cock, and said ‘But this’…” Elizabeth leaned in as close to Hermione’s head as their position would allow and dropped her voice. “…‘this is for Hermione’.”  
  
Elizabeth could hardly blame her daughter for stopping, because it was obvious that she had been pushed into an extremely powerful orgasm. Hermione’s eyes rolled up, and her eyelids fluttered again, and she let out some incoherent, strangled noises into Elizabeth’s cunt. The more experienced woman decided to allow Hermione a short while to collect herself before making her continue with her duties.  
  
A few seconds later, and a gentle thrusting upwards from Elizabeth, Hermione was slowly getting back to work building the next moment of pure bliss for her Mistress.  
  
“Harry was very nervous and anxious at the beginning,” Elizabeth said softly. She watched as Hermione looked up at her lazily, her eyes half lidded. “But he was also curious and persistent. Once, I hesitated with him, and he punished me for it.”  
  
Elizabeth shuddered as suddenly Hermione tried to speak with her mouth still occupied.  
  
_Just like with me, that Pavlovian response is getting built._  
  
“That’s right, slut… Hesitation will be punished…” Elizabeth let out a short moan. “Your father showed Harry how to safely choke someone on me,” Elizabeth mentioned, continuing her recounting of the day. “He was actually pretty good at it by the end of the day. Once he understood the point was more about restricting blood flow than blocking air, he got it.”  
  
Hermione’s eyes got wide at this information. She hadn’t been choked, and was unsure if she’d enjoy it, but… there had been nothing so far she hadn’t enjoyed in some way.  
  
“Harry practiced using his hands. Practiced finding the g-spot, different ways of playing with a clit…” Elizabeth glared at Hermione for a moment. “You have no fucking idea how much your Master teased me today, that’s why it’s your job to deal with it.”  
  
The statement had been more of a stream of thought than a calculated one, and though Hermione somehow didn’t stop in her task, both of them stared at each other for a few moments. Harry… wasn’t her Master. He hadn’t actually agreed to that yet, and Hermione hadn’t actually agreed to submit to him yet. Elizabeth was sure that both _would_ happen, but still, it wasn’t exactly okay for her to speak like it already had.  
  
“Sorry slut,” Elizabeth said, leaning back. “You know how it is when a slut’s brain gets muddled.”  
  
Elizabeth just took deep breaths and enjoyed her daughters mouth for a minute or so, before looking back down between her legs.  
  
“Something changed in him today,” Elizabeth said quietly. Hermione, who had stopped looking up once Elizabeth had relaxed, locked eyes with her Mistress again. “At the beginning of the day, he was there for you. He wanted to do his best because he wanted to help you, and be there for you, and protect you.” Elizabeth saw Hermione’s eyes begin to water. “At the end of the day, those things were still there, but it was obvious that wasn’t why he was learning any more. He was doing it for him. He was doing it because he wanted to do it.”  
  
Hermione looked back down at Mistress’ stomach and felt a few tears of happiness and relief roll down her cheeks.  
  
“We taught him different ways to control, discipline, and train a sub, mostly.” Elizabeth paused, she was speaking in a tender voice now. “After he had finished learning my body, we mostly taught him and let him practice how to interact with a sub. He looked so happy doing it, and he definitely had talent.”  
  
Elizabeth moaned, feeling her next orgasm start to build.  
  
“Mmmm… slut, we’re not getting up for a while, so be prepared if I need to use the bathroom.”  
  
###  
  
Harry woke up feeling fresh and energetic, almost lighter than air. It was like a bout of laughter was constantly waiting right behind his lips to escape, and every concern he had in the world was a trivial matter to deal with.  
  
Getting ready quickly, Harry decided that he’d knock on Michael’s door for a change, and a few moments later he was invited inside.  
  
“Go ahead and sit, Harry,” Michal said, indicated the chair. Harry took it and relaxed against the back, smiling. “I thought we could talk a bit about what happened yesterday now that you’ve been able to sleep on it.”  
  
“Sure, Michael,” Harry said easily. “It was… brilliant. I can’t wait to share something like that with Hermione. You know I really understand what you meant now? About what control is, and what the responsibility of a Dom is. Or I feel like I do, anyway.”  
  
“I think you’re well on your way,” Michael agreed. “Do you still feel uncomfortable with nudity?”  
  
Harry shifted in the seat.  
  
“Well… I mean a little, yeah. I’d be uncomfortable undressing right now, for instance, because I don’t have a reason to. But… I feel much better about it in the proper context.”  
  
“Very good Harry,” Michael said with a smile. “The last day we’re in London I’m going to have Elizabeth come back for another bit of training.”  
  
“Like yesterday?” Harry asked. He winced as he realized how hopeful his tone had sounded.  
  
“No,” Michael said with a laugh. His smile faded and his expression became serious. “It will be about punishment. Different types of punishment, how to do them safely, and why they are done at all. That sort of thing.”  
  
“Why will Elizabeth be there then?” Harry asked confused.  
  
“Because we will be using her to demonstrate the punishments.”  
  
“For… the whole day?” Harry asked, eyes wide.  
  
“The morning and afternoon, yes.” Michael paused. “I’ve already discussed it with Elizabeth, and it was her suggestion Harry.”  
  
Harry mused on that for a few moments before his mind switched to the thing he had been considering last night before bed.  
  
“Michael, I’d like to go get something in Diagon Alley. Er… alone.” Harry spoke in a very determined voice that surprised Michael, but he didn’t ask any questions.  
  
“I won’t let you walk through London on your own, but I’ll take you there after breakfast and wait at the entrance.”  
  
“Thank you, Michael.”  
  
###  
  
Hermione shivered at the tickling sensation on her stomach as Mistress pulled back.  
  
“There,” the older woman said. “Now turn and face the mirror.”  
  
Hermione turned around and shivered for a quite different reason. Written in ink all over her body were words. Crude, vulgar, dirty words.  
  
“Today’s lesson is dirty talk, slut. For the rest of the day, every time you speak, you need to use at least one of these words. Do you understand?”  
  
Hermione’s eyes raked over her body, looking for a word she might be able to work into a confirmation.  
  
“This slut understands, Mistress.”  
  
Elizabeth smiled and patted her on the head.  
  
“Good girl. Keep in mind, the more words you can use, the better you’re doing.” Elizabeth gave her a smirk. “I don’t remember you being lazy.”  
  
Hermione looked over the words available to her again and slowly formulated a response, wincing at how foreign it sounded.  
  
“Fuck no… Mistress… this slut… prides itself on not being lazy… with her brain or cunt.”  
  
Elizabeth let out a short, sharp laugh and Hermione winced again.  
  
“Good girl. That was well done. Now help your Mistress get these rooms cleaned up.”  
  
###  
  
“Hey Michael?” Harry started.  
  
“Yes Harry?”  
  
They had been going over some examples of different kinds of fetish equipment, and it was reminding Harry of something he needed to ask the man.  
  
“You remember the other day when I wanted to get something from Diagon Alley on my own?” Harry waited for Michael to nod before continuing. “Well… I was visiting some of the shops and even looked down Knockturn Alley a bit. I was looking for a collar for Hermione, like the one that Elizabeth wore. I wanted to see if there was a magic version of it.”  
  
Michael leaned forward, intrigued.  
  
“Did you find one Harry?”  
  
“Well, yes. I found a place that would deal in that sort of item in a tucked away corner of Diagon Alley. I had to place an order though, they only make them as they are purchased you see. But…” Harry trailed off. “The man that ran the shop didn’t want to sell it to me because of my age. So to get him to place the order I told him it was for my Uncle.”  
  
“I see,” Michael said, leaning back and thinking. “And I assume you would like me to pick it up in your place?”  
  
“Yes, Michael. That would be helpful.”  
  
“So you plan on offering Hermione a collar then?”  
  
“Er…” Harry faltered. Wasn’t that… the point? “Yes Michael, I do.”  
  
A please smile spread over Michael’s face.  
  
“What sort of special properties does this collar have?” Michael asked curiously.  
  
“Well it’s only custom order, you see,” Harry said. “So I got to pick the features myself. They’re all controlled with runes on a small stone that comes with it, like a remote control.”  
  
“Runes? Would that… work with someone non-magical?” Michael had a gleam in his eye.  
  
“Er… I don’t see why not,” Harry said. “All the magic is in the collar.”  
  
“And… someone like me could activate the runes?” Michael definitely looked interested now.  
  
“I’m not sure, but Hermione would know. She takes Ancient Runes at Hogwarts.”  
  
Michael stood abruptly.  
  
“Let’s go Harry, we’re going to have him double that order.”  
  
Michael was disappointed to learn that Muggles couldn’t activate runes once they checked, but it turned out there was another option that was open to them.  
  
###  
  
Harry woke up more nervous than he had been the last few days. Today would involve learning about physical punishment, and as part of that, Elizabeth would be back. Harry had to admit, if he were honest to himself, that a part of him wanted a repeat of his first session with Elizabeth so that he could actually practice some of the things he had learned. But at the same time, there was that part of Harry that desperately wanted a lot of his first experiences in that area to be with Hermione.  
  
All the same, today would be important, he knew that now. Punishment, as far as he had studied it this week, was a particularly tricky area of ‘the lifestyle’, because it really brushed up on some of the more complicated parts of consent. Harry knew now that some Doms would exact punishment regardless of consent, but that felt too close to abuse for Harry, particularly when it was physical punishment.  
  
Making sure he was ready for the day, Harry examined himself in the mirror. He was wearing his ‘Dom outfit’ for the first time. A black turtle-neck shirt that hugged his features, a pair of black jeans, and a pair of comfortable dress shoes. It was simple, functional, allowed a lot of freedom of movement, and wouldn’t hang or catch on anything. Harry didn’t think that he really looked that different in the mirror, but he _felt_ different when he wore this outfit. He felt powerful, and in control.  
  
Michael had said that this was a common experience. A lot of Doms had outfits or tools that when used created a sense of peace and purpose that allowed the necessary confidence and control to spill forth. Regardless of whether or not he looked different, he knew that he had changed. Whether or not it was better or worse, Harry didn’t feel that lingering self-doubt any more, or the shame that Michael had claimed came from being abused. The fact that he could even label the neglect he’d experienced abuse was something of a novelty for Harry. No, he had changed in an irrevocable way, and he only hoped that it wouldn’t cause problems from him in the future.  
  
Nodding to himself, Harry walked to his door and started down the hall. They hadn’t discussed it the night before, but both Harry and Michael seemed to understand that on this, his last day of training, he wouldn’t be summoned or retrieved. He would arrive on his own.  
  
Harry took one deep breath before knocking on Michael’s door. There was the sound of movement behind the door, the latch being turned, and then the door opened.  
  
“Right on time, Harry,” Michael said. For the first time Harry could remember, Michael had not greeted him with a smile, but instead wore a serious look on his face. “Come inside, the whore is ready for her punishment.”  
  
Whore. Harry had picked up a few things about Michael and Elizabeth during the week. They had names that they used to define the setting and the mood that they were in. When they were talking as just two people, Michael would call her Liz. When they were talking as Master and slave with affection, he could call her pet. When Michael wanted to humiliate her and turn her on, he would call her cunt. When they were engaging in some kind of mutual sexual activity he would use slut. But when he wanted to degrade her _without_ making her feel aroused, he would use whore.  
  
It was interesting really, and Harry wondered to himself if they did it consciously or if it was simply a habit they had built up over the years. Last night he had been thinking about it and wondered if he would have different names for different moods with Hermione.  
  
Walking through the small hallway, Harry entered the room and his eyes immediately took Elizabeth in. She was tied down to the bed on her back, legs and arms each tied to one of the bed corners leaving her open from all angles. She wasn’t wearing any nipple jewelry today, and the look on her face was rather somber.  
  
Michael walked over to the bed and looked down at the helpless woman.  
  
“I won’t lie Harry… this isn’t exactly going to be a pleasant lesson. I need you to understand a few things.” Michael looked up and waited until Harry met his gaze. “Elizabeth didn’t just agree to today’s training, she demanded it. In fact, I expressed hesitation in doing so, because today is going to be quite painful for her. While I have no problems indulging her desire for physical pain from time to time, I knew that it was going to be somewhat difficult for me. So, she slapped me.”  
  
Harry gawked at Michael for a few moments before glancing at Elizabeth.  
  
“Now as you can imagine, that is quite a breach of her rules. I think, in her own way, she wanted to make sure that I would take this seriously, and I also think it was an act of compassion… something to give me an excuse to not feel guilty.” Michael paused. “However, her punishment today is going to be severe enough that I made sure the rooms on both sides of us are empty first.  
  
“What I’m going to demonstrate today is a wide variety of punishments. You do not need to use them _all_. Many of the punishments that I’ll use today are ones that we don’t use often or at all. So if you see a punishment and feel like it’s not right for you, don’t feel like you must use it. Do you understand?”  
  
“Yes, I understand,” Harry said uncomfortably. “Will I be… participating?”  
  
Michael paused, almost as if he wasn’t sure of the answer himself.  
  
“At… certain points.” Michael walked over to the desk and gestured at all the equipment laid out. “We’ll go through these throughout the day. First, I’d like you to come over here and dip a finger in this bowl.”  
  
Harry walked over and looked into a metal bowl that appeared to have a glass dildo at the bottom and water inside. He dipped a finger in and pulled it out.  
  
“It’s fairly cold,” Harry commented.  
  
“Yes,” Michael said nodding. “The first thing we will be doing is giving her tits 20 strikes with this.” He picked up an alarmingly solid looking paddle. “That’s 10 on each side.”  
  
Michael set the paddle down and reached his hand into the bowl, pulling back out with the dildo.  
  
“My wife however is a masochist. That means she gets sexual pleasure from experiencing pain. As this is a punishment, she shouldn’t be experiencing pleasure, so this will be going inside her. The dildo is fairly cold so it will reduce blood flow, which will prevent most of her arousal. The cold can also cause the muscles to tighten or cramp slightly.” Michael paused. “If you ever want to put something cold inside a sub, use some kind of chilled glass, _never_ ice. Putting a large amount of ice inside of a body cavity can drop a person’s core body temperature extremely quickly. If you are especially careless with putting ice in someone they can go into hypothermia, shock, or even die. _Never_ use ice except for outside the body.”  
  
Harry’s eyes had grown wide as the man talked, and he gave Michael a curt nod to show that he understood.  
  
“There are a lot of safety things to remember today Harry. When you are purposely causing pain to someone, but don’t want to endanger them, you must be extremely careful to remain safe.”  
  
Michael walked over to Elizabeth, reached between her legs and roughly shoved the glass dildo into her cunt. Elizabeth cringed and whimpered slightly, her body moving as if trying to get away from the intruder. Harry thought part of her reaction was that Michael hadn’t applied any lube or made sure to get Elizabeth wet before inserting the dildo. The only lubrication had been the drops of water still clinging to the surface, and water was a poor lubricator on skin.  
  
“Hand me the paddle, please,” Michael requested from the bed. Harry turned, picked up the paddle, and walked over handing it to Michael. The older man was standing next to the bed on Elizabeth’s left, and he motioned for Harry to stand on her right. “I will deliver the first 10 strikes. She must count each one in order. If she messes up the count, the strike must be redone. Afterward, I will let you try if you feel up to it.”  
  
Harry just nodded, feeling a little uncomfortable. He knew, had been told several times, that Elizabeth was here by choice. But there was still something about this that was difficult for Harry to experience. He’d experienced his share of physical pain, but most of it had come at the hand of kids his own age, like his cousin. It hadn’t usually contained this setting of authority mixed with it. Still, he couldn’t help but feel some parallels to what was about to happen in front of him.  
  
Harry watched Michael’s face as the man seemed to collect himself and focus. The arm holding the paddle raised up… and then _flew_ through the air with a speed that was alarming to Harry. It struck Elizabeth perfectly center on her left breast, and the sound it made was loud, meaty, and sharp.  
  
“AAAAaaahhh!” Elizabeth screeched. Her face, which through almost any kind of activity had been able to maintain a neutral expression before, was twisted into obvious lines of anguish that transcended language. “ONE!” She managed to cry out.  
  
Michael pulled back and came down again, just as hard.  
  
“T-Two-o-o-o.” Elizabeth’s count had been marred by the fact that she was already openly sobbing. Harry found it difficult to watch as each blow was struck with methodical precision and force. Her skin became red and angry, then uneven in color. By the fifth strike she was flat out crying, barely able to control her breath enough to force out the numbers she was counting.  
  
Even so, Michael kept a steady pace. He would pause long enough between strikes so that each one was a completely new experience, which Harry realized probably made each strike only worse. It was impressive how calculated the whole process was, but still Harry could not see a situation in which he would want to be quite this sadistic with Hermione.  
  
_But what if Hermione asks me to? Wants me to?_ Harry thought. _Would I be able to?_  
  
Harry didn’t know the answer to that question, and pushed it from his mind as he watched the last strike fall. Michael took several deep breaths, then looked up at Harry.  
  
“I know that, perhaps, you may think differently of me now Harry. It’s… corporal punishment of a sub is not something that someone outside the relationship usually watches a Dom do, because it is intensely personal. Even when both parties consent, such as cases like this, it is difficult to watch and believe that what is happening is something they agreed to.” Michael looked down at Elizabeth. “Let’s give the whore a few minutes to collect herself before we do the other 10 strikes.”  
  
Harry looked back down at Elizabeth and felt something tug at him. She looked like she was suffering greatly, her eyes were red and puffy, tears were flowing down her face and snot was running out of her nose. After a few seconds, Harry realized she was whispering something between sobs, and focusing was able to make out what she was saying.  
  
“…*sniff*…I’m sorry…*sob*…I’m sorry…”  
  
Harry recoiled, paused, then looked up at Michael with a glare.  
  
“Mr. Granger,” Harry started. Michael stiffened. Harry hadn’t called him ‘Mr. Granger’ for the entire week, and both of them knew he had just done it on purpose. “Mercury.”  
  
Michael nodded, reached down, and took out the glass dildo. He didn’t hesitate at all, he simply began removing Elizabeth from every restraint she was in. Less than a minute later Elizabeth was curled on the bed, her sobs becoming less pronounced. Michael reached out, and Elizabeth crawled into his arms, curling up on his lap and laying her head against his chest.  
  
She was still whispering something, but it wasn’t coming between sobs any more.  
  
“…thank you…thank you…”  
  
Harry was stunned. She was thanking him?  
  
Michael just shook his head a bit and they all sat in silence while Elizabeth collected herself. After about three minutes, she finally spoke.  
  
“Why am I out of the restraints Master?” Elizabeth asked in a hoarse voice.  
  
“Harry safeworded, pet,” Michael answered.  
  
Elizabeth turned to look at Harry. Her face was a mess of tear streaks and red splotches. Her eyes and her cheeks were still puffy, and there were creases in her skin where she had been recently crying. But for all that, she was looking at Harry with sadness and… pity. She seemed to clutch Michael tighter, then looked back at him.  
  
“See Master…” she said softly. “I told you that we had to do this lesson… what if his first time had been with Hermione when she was begging for something that neither of them understood?”  
  
“You were right, pet,” Michael said with a fond grin as he patted her head. “As you usually are.”  
  
“Master… can you get me a soda from the vending machine? I want… to talk to Young Master.”  
  
Michael looked up at Harry for a moment, then back down into Elizabeth’s face.  
  
“Of course pet, I’ll be back in a few.”  
  
Elizabeth watched Michael leave then turned to Harry once the door had closed.  
  
“Young Master, I—”  
  
“Harry,” he interrupted. “Please.”  
  
Elizabeth frowned.  
  
“I’m sorry… after that experience… I’m just so far into the headspace.” She took a deep breath. “ _Harry_ , I wanted to let you know that I’m proud of you.” Harry looked at her confused and she continued. “You used the safeword when you needed the session to immediately stop. That’s exactly what it’s for. I hope you also see that Michael stopped immediately and untied me, even though you weren’t participating in the scene.” She looked at him earnestly. “Anyone present can safeword, Harry, and they don’t have to justify it.”  
  
Elizabeth shivered slightly and looked down at her chest, frowning.  
  
“Now they don’t match…” she muttered, poking both of her breasts in turn. She looked up back at Harry and had, of all things, an annoyed look on her face. “Sorry… as you can imagine… my mind is a bit scattered after that.” She took another deep breath. “A physical punishment is one of the most intense things you can experience as a sub or a Dom Harry. But I want to make it clear that I was able to continue.”  
  
“I’m sorry, I—”  
  
“No,” Elizabeth cut him off. “You don’t _ever_ have to apologize for using a safeword Harry. I’m not telling you I could continue in order to say you did something wrong. I’m telling you so that you understand I knew what I was getting into. This is also a part of many relationships in this lifestyle. Perhaps not this particular punishment, but punishments themselves.  
  
“Michael was telling the truth when he said that I pushed him into giving this lesson. Do you know why, Harry?”  
  
“Not really,” Harry mumbled, frowning as he shrugged.  
  
“Because we are placing our daughter’s life, all her needs and desires and protection, in your hands for most of the year. You’ve come to her rescue so many times before.” Elizabeth smiled. “And she’s even come to yours a few times. But there will be a point where Hermione will want punishment. Where she will _deserve_ punishment of some kind. If that day came, and you didn’t know what to do… Harry, you have to understand that it’s very easy to harm someone giving a punishment like this, and because of that it’s very important to know what you’re doing. Like with the ice that Michael was talking about.”  
  
“Oh,” Harry replied. He wasn’t sure exactly about all of this still. “But… why? Why can’t I just tell her ‘don’t do that again’ or something?”  
  
“Because sometimes the physical pain acts like… hmmm… Harry, you know that feeling when you step into a warm shower and the water first washes over your body? Where you can feel the dirt and dust being washed away?”  
  
“Yeah…” Harry said, unsure of where this was going.  
  
“For some subs Harry, physical pain cleanses their messy emotions the same way that the first warm water of a shower cleanses the dirt off your skin. Even if the water in the shower is too hot, when it is over the feeling of being refreshed is always there. For me, the pain itself is sometimes difficult, but the feeling after is… refreshing. I choose to experience the pain Harry, because it helps me be myself better. It helps keep me running smoothly and evenly.”  
  
“How… er… how is that different from someone who self-harms?” Harry asked. He’d read about that in one of the books he’d picked up this week.  
  
“Well, the most obvious difference is that you are letting someone else decide what is too far. When Michael punishes me, I can’t make him go further than he wants to or is willing to. With the right partner that you trust, you keep each other from falling into pain that crosses the line. Another difference though is that none of these punishments represent a serious risk to my health when done right, and they won’t leave any permanent marks.”  
  
Harry looked at her dubiously, his eyes falling to her left breast which now had small spots of purple on it. She smiled at him.  
  
“The bruising will fade, Harry.”  
  
“So… you want to keep going?”  
  
“I am willing to keep going. You’re the one that used a safeword. So you’re the one that decides if we continue.”  
  
Elizabeth crawled towards him on the bed.  
  
“Now,” she said. “I’m a little… twitchy. That was very intense, and I had to immediately focus my mind to explain all of this. But after a punishment like that, I very much need closeness and comfort. It’s called aftercare, Harry.” Her fingers twitched towards him, and her voice lost the even tone she had been using like it had been a jacket she’d just shrugged off, her words coming out almost as a whisper. “Will you please hold me Harry? I need to feel someone close right now.”  
  
Harry didn’t know what to do or say except open his arms. She fell onto him, wrapping her own arms around him. He could feel her body shivering against him, and wasn’t sure if he was supposed to do anything, so he just sat there, running his hands up and down her back bare until the door to the room opened and Michael returned.  
  
Michael set the soda down on one of the nightstands and sat down on the bed. Elizabeth slowly let go of Harry and crawled over to Michael, who wrapped her up in his arms gently.  
  
“How are you feeling, Harry?” Michael asked. “Did your conversation with Elizabeth help?”  
  
“It did,” Harry said, shifting a bit. “She explained a few things to me.”  
  
Harry and Michael sat in silence for several moments before the older man spoke up again.  
  
“What’s your favorite class, Harry?”  
  
Harry was surprised by the question, it was so out place with the context of the room, but only hesitated a moment before answering. They continued like that for a while, having a simple conversation about Hogwarts, the things that Harry liked and disliked about his classes, and other topics that Harry found very easy to talk about. After a short while during their conversation, Elizabeth disentangled herself from Michael and grabbed the soda off the nightstand, sipping it as she listened in.  
  
Harry understood what they were doing now. Michael was trying to put Harry at ease, though he was probably also interested in the topics they were discussing. They were avoiding mentioning anything about the training or what had happened because Harry had used the safeword. If they talked about it, Harry might feel pressured into discussing or engaging in an activity that he had asked them to end.  
  
Feeling one of their conversation threads coming to an end, Harry decided to engage the topic for them.  
  
“Thank you both… for everything,” Harry said. “I think that… we should probably even that out, right?” Harry pointed to Elizabeth’s chest. Neither of them replied for several seconds.  
  
“Are you sure Harry?” Michael asked. “Even if you want to continue today’s lesson, we can move on to something else.”  
  
“I’m sure,” Harry said confidently. “Elizabeth said something that I’ve been thinking over, and she was right. I don’t want to hurt Hermione later if I don’t know what I’m doing just because I was feeling uncomfortable today.”  
  
“Do you want me to do the last 10 strikes Harry?”  
  
“No,” Harry answered. “I… I want to learn how to do this myself.”  
  
Harry stood with confidence, but his face betrayed a hesitancy that Elizabeth caught on to.  
  
“Harry,” she said, “I want you to understand something. _Even if_ you go to far with me, and hurt me, I would still do it so long as you _learn_ from it. I would much rather you hurt me by accident while learning than hurt my daughter because of inexperience or ignorance when neither of us are there.” She looked at him seriously. “So even if Michael or I correct you, and tell you that you were doing something that isn’t safe, I want you to know that’s okay with me as the person experiencing it if you are taking these lessons to heart.”  
  
Harry nodded, unable to speak at the seriousness of her voice. Elizabeth looked at the bed and frowned.  
  
“I’m getting over a bit of subdrop,” Elizabeth said. “Do you think that I could spend about 10 minutes tied again before you continue?”  
  
“Subdrop?” Harry repeated confused.  
  
“Yes,” Michael said, moving to tie up Elizabeth once more while he spoke. “It’s… did Elizabeth explain how she experiences the pain during a scene like this?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Well,” Michael continued, “when something intense like that happens, it triggers a response in the sympathetic nervous system. It dumps very large amounts of several chemicals into your nervous system and blood, like epinepherine, endorphins, and enkephalins.”  
  
“Master,” Elizabeth said playfully. “He’s not in a medical profession like we are.”  
  
“Oh,” Michael said looking a bit put out, finishing the last restraint. “Right, sorry about that Harry.” He looked at Harry chagrined and started over. “An intense experience like that causes your body to go into a state where lots of chemicals related to pleasure and pain flood your system. It has a similar effect to some very powerful drugs, like morphine. Have you heard of that before?”  
  
“Er… no.”  
  
“Have you heard of heroin?”  
  
“Yeah, that’s one of the drugs Uncle Vernon has complained about before. He always made it sound like a terrifying drug that turned you into a zombie.”  
  
“Yes, well, your body can naturally produce many of the same effects of drugs like that,” Michael explained. “They help reduce the pain and make it feel more pleasurable, among other things.” Harry nodded indicating he was following along. “You can temporarily ‘wear out’ your body on the drugs though, like how your hand can get used to warm or cold water. When that happens a sub can experience a very sudden feeling of depression, or unwantedness, or shame, or guilt. Drinking lots of water before and after can help avoid that, but it’s also good to have some simple sugar after something particularly intense. That’s why Elizabeth asked me to get a soda. We may be dentists, but there are times when having something sugary is absolutely a good thing.”  
  
“I don’t get what that means though,” Harry said. “Like… how does that relate to any of this?”  
  
“It’s why Elizabeth wanted to be held so much,” Michael said. “It helped her feel wanted and safe while she rode out the subdrop. It does, however, sometimes make it so that someone, even an extremely submissive person, can have trouble feeling submissive for a short time.”  
  
Harry understood now. Helping set a tone and mindset to assist a sub in feeling submissive was one of the things they had covered the first time Elizabeth had assisted with his training. The idea of subdrop was somewhat troubling to Harry though, and he decided he would have to make sure to engage in aftercare wherever possible.  
  
“I suppose,” Harry said, moving into position next to Elizabeth, “that we’ll just have to remind the little whore what she’s for.”  
  
Michael barked out a laugh and Elizabeth blushed. Harry had certainly gotten a grasp of how to manage headspace correctly. Harry held out his hand to Michael and the older man handed him the paddle. Harry held it up, making sure it was in Elizabeth’s view, then laid it down on her taught stomach. She twitched at the feeling of the contact and looked up at him, fire starting to burn in her eyes again.  
  
“She’s being punished for slapping you?” Harry confirmed. Michael nodded.  
  
Harry thought for a few moments about how to make sure Elizabeth was in the right mental space before taking a course of action. Moving quickly, his hand snaked out and he shoved a finger inside her cunt, causing her to gasp in surprise. Pulling out his now wet finger, he reached up and wiped it off just under Elizabeth’s nose.  
  
“What do you smell?” Harry asked evenly.  
  
“Cunt, Young Master,” she replied.  
  
“And what are you?”  
  
“A cunt, Young Master.”  
  
Harry nodded and picked up the paddle, holding it in his right hand. He looked up at Michael.  
  
“How hard should I hit? I don’t really have a reference point for this and my own strength.”  
  
“For the first hit,” Michael said, “go the hardest that you personally feel comfortable with. I’ll let you know after if you can go harder or need to dial it back.”  
  
Harry bobbed his head in understanding and stared at the paddle again, spinning it in his hand slowly. He looked past the paddle and saw Elizabeth staring at him intensely.  
  
“Eyes forward, whore.”  
  
Elizabeth’s eyes widened before they snapped to her front.  
  
_The hardest hit I feel comfortable with…_  
  
Harry pulled back and brought the paddle down on Elizabeth’s unblemished breast. A loud smacking sound resounded through the room, but Elizabeth’s face barely seemed to flinch at all.  
  
“One,” she said in… was that a _bored_ tone!?  
  
“You can go much harder than that, Harry,” Michael told him.  
  
Harry heard the man, but he was more focused on the feeling he was experiencing. He had been in this Dom headspace before, but this was the first time he’d felt angry while in the headspace. It didn’t feel like petty or personal anger, more like righteous anger, like there was something incorrect about the world that he absolutely could not allow to continue.  
  
_I’ll give you bored,_ he thought, raising the paddle again.  
  
He brought it down nearly as hard as he could, and this time Elizabeth’s head jerked backwards in obvious pain.  
  
“TWO!” she shouted after a few moments.  
  
“That was good Harry. That may be a bit hard for someone who isn’t a masochist like whore here, but I wouldn’t go much harder than that with anyone until you have more experience.”  
  
Harry nodded and brought the paddle down with force again. With each strike he began to appreciate the feelings that must have been going through Michael. There was a deliriously enticing feeling of raw power that frightened him somewhat, but there was also a tension of knowing the responsibility you had to ensure the sub’s safety at all times. That tension over being asked by your sub’s desires to willingly approach the line you were responsible for protecting them from was thrilling and terrifying.  
  
But he also came to understand the ritual and order of what was happening. He thought what Elizabeth had told him about washing emotions clean made more sense now that he was participating directly. With every strike his righteous feeling of anger diminished. He could understand now how this activity would be used and enjoyed by some people. For the Dom, after administering something like this he couldn’t imagine being unwilling to forgive the other person for a transgression. For the sub, he could see how the pain might bring absolution. He had felt the feeling before of being verbally forgiven but having the guilt linger behind.  
  
The punishment helped the Dom forgive and teach the sub, he realized, but it also helped the sub forgive themselves.  
  
After delivering the tenth strike, Harry came out of his focus and looked at Elizabeth. She was crying again, though not quite as hard as before. When had she started crying? How had he not noticed?  
  
He looked up at Michael, wondering what the man would see in him now that their positions were reversed. There was a certain hardness to his eyes, but otherwise Michael appeared to be proud.  
  
“Good job, Harry.”  
  
“Should we untie her? Does she need more aftercare?”  
  
“Not right now,” Michael answered. “She needed it before because untying her brought her out of the headspace before all those chemicals had cleaned out. Besides we have plenty of other punishments to demonstrate today.”  
  
Harry frowned at Michael’s statement. By using the safeword when he had, he’d actually increased her suffering? But that was the nature of a safeword, someone needed things to end right that moment. They had both been adamant that apologies and excuses for using a safeword were unnecessary, but Harry realized that all actions could have positive or negative consequences, no matter how well intentioned or necessary.  
  
They spent the day going through many types of punishment together, taking breaks every so often for aftercare and to recover. Many of the example punishments that were demonstrated didn’t involve pain and were focused more on the mental aspect of punishment, though Harry couldn’t help but be amused when Michael had Elizabeth write lines.  
  
Some had been frightening in different ways, such as when Michael had demonstrated sensory deprivation using a blindfold and earplugs. Others happened over longer periods of time, like keeping her horny but not allowing her to cum.  
  
After a long and exhausting day of punishment, all three of them were tired. As everything seemed to be winding down, Michael spoke.  
  
“Harry, I have one more thing about punishment that I want to demonstrate for you.”  
  
Harry nodded and Elizabeth perked up. She was kneeling a short distance away from them and from the expression on her face she didn’t know where Michael was going with this. Michael seemed to take several deep breaths, as if working himself up for something.  
  
“Whore. Heel.”  
  
Elizabeth crawled forward quickly and got into position three at Michael’s feet. Harry was curious where this was going and was surprised when Michael swung his hand and slapped her across the face hard enough that she fell over. She clearly hadn’t been expecting the strike, but even so she recovered quickly and got back into position, making her body even more straight and controlled.  
  
Michael slapped her again and this time she laid there for a few seconds, looking confused and scared. Harry was confused too. What was Michael doing exactly? He wasn’t saying anything, he was just watching Elizabeth. After several quick breaths and a glance around, Elizabeth bowed in front of him, like she was kneeling for a deity. Michael reached down, pulled her up by her hair, and slapped her again.  
  
Harry frowned. Elizabeth definitely looked scared now, and he could see that tears were running down her face. To his shock, he realized that she looked more emotionally broken now than she had during any of the other, much more painful punishments.  
  
“Michael, what are you doing?”  
  
“I’m punishing her for not doing what I want,” Michael answered evenly, slapping her again. This time she just stayed on the ground and curled up sobbing.  
  
“Michael!” Harry shouted, moving forward and grabbing the man. “You’re not explaining what she’s doing wrong!”  
  
Michael looked at Harry, then nodded.  
  
“That’s the lesson Harry,” Michael said sadly. “Look at Elizabeth right now.” Harry glanced at her, taking in just how broken she was at that moment. “You just watched her get punished and tortured for nearly eight straight hours, and for the most part she took that in stride. I just did this to her with nothing but four medium strength slaps.” Harry looked back at Michael. “Do not _ever_ do what you just saw me do with _anyone_ , Harry. If you do not explain what is expected, you never have the right to punish her. When you punish without explaining what is expected or what was done wrong, not only is it abuse, but you’re violating her ability to consent to the activity. You must _always_ clearly explain what you expect and why, and during a punishment you must _always_ explain the behavior that is expected or the purpose of the punishment. Do you understand?”  
  
Harry was unsettled, but nodded. Michael let out a long sigh.  
  
“Go ahead and take the rest of the day for yourself, Harry. What Elizabeth just experienced was more painful that anything else that happened today. She’s a sub who was being punished and didn’t understand what she was doing wrong or how she was disappointing me. I need some alone time with my wife now to comfort her and apologize.”  
  
Harry looked between them before nodding and leaving the room. As he was leaving, he took one last look at Michael’s face and for the first time saw the older mans features with a pained expression that held deep sorrow, a tear rolling down his cheek.  
  
###  
  
**Author’s Note:** This is a very intense chapter in some ways. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.  
  
Next chapter though we will see Harry and Hermione reunited. Finally!  
  
If you’re interested, you’re welcome to join me on my Discord server:  
  
<https://discord.gg/TQ25x5u>


	9. Say Hello For The Last Time

**Author’s Note:** If you haven’t already, I **highly suggest** you re-read at least **chapter’s 1-3**. I made significant changes to those chapters which added almost six thousand words between them. These changes include a lot of the backstory for Hermione’s discovery of submission and slavery, and how the dynamic with her parents developed, and that backstory will be referenced in this chapter and in future chapters.  
  
###  
  
Chapter 9  
Say Hello For The Last Time  
  
###  
  
Harry dashed back and forth, trying to collect everything that had been strewn about the room over the course of his week long stay. Picking things up as he went, he realized that it didn’t feel like it had been a week, it felt more like a month. So much had changed since he flew down the stairs to try and rescue Michael from Aunt Petunia. He’d experienced more embarrassment and discomfort over the last few days than the rest of his life combined, but because of it he felt much more comfortable with who he was now.  
  
He thought it might be something like sweating out a fever. It was certainly uncomfortable as it happened, but afterward it was like the feelings had carried away an emotional sludge that he’d held on to deep inside himself. The experience with Elizabeth, exploring her body and his own capacity for control, had been exciting and surprising. He’d had fantasies before and gotten off to them like any teenage boy, but he’d always felt a certain amount of shame over his own sexuality. Perhaps the single thing Harry was most grateful for was that Michael and Elizabeth had made him understand that the things he felt and thought about were natural and normal. They were nothing to be ashamed of.  
  
While that was the single lesson he was most grateful for, it was not the thing that had made the largest impact. No, the most stark lesson he had learned was easily the one Michael had taught him about punishment. You never have the right to punish a sub if you don’t make expectations clear.  
  
Harry was still somewhat shaken at the degree to which Elizabeth had looked broken after that lesson last afternoon. In the evening, Michael had brought him dinner and reassured him that Elizabeth was fine, but it was extremely sobering to see a sub that had been a _voluntary slave_ for _twenty-two years_ break so completely in such a short period of time. It was the lesson that Harry was sure he would always remember more than any of the others.  
  
Harry was pulled from his thoughts by a knock at the door. Turning the handle, he saw Michael waiting in the hallway with his already packed bags.  
  
“Hey Michael, come on in, I’m still packing.” Harry quickly went back into the room.  
  
“Did you pack the collar?” Michael asked as he watched Harry dart around the room and pack. “We wouldn’t want to leave that behind.”  
  
“Right!” Harry agreed loudly, running to the opposite side of the room and grabbing it. “Sorry, I’m just… nervous.”  
  
“That’s understandable, Harry,” Michael told him agreeably. “All of this was brand new to you only a week ago. Have you enjoyed learning about all this?”  
  
Harry chuckled.  
  
“Have I enjoyed being able to fondle your wife? As you both explain to me how to do things to your daughter that would make my relatives shrivel up in pure scorn at the scandal?” Harry grinned at Michael. “I still haven’t quite figured out if this is all one giant trick question. It feels rather odd for a girl’s father to, er, help so much in this regard.”  
  
“Too true,” Michael said with a chuckle of his own. “Admittedly, it feels odd to me as well. I can tell you for a fact that I imagined my reaction to my little girl being, er, sexually active quite differently. But… Harry, this whole situation is one that Hermione has been on about for several years now.” Michael looked at Harry thoughtfully. “I’m not sure how much of it are things that my wife and I did while raising her, how much of it are things that you may have done while at school, and how much of it is just the way Hermione is as a person. Others might disagree with what Liz and I are doing for you two, but I honestly see the bigger problem as letting Hermione go at it on her own.”  
  
“I remember,” Harry replied, a bit more subdued. “You told me that first morning that all of this was about protecting Hermione. On that I think you and I have the same priorities.”  
  
“I know,” Michael said soberly. “I’ve… seen it, during the week. I think I understand how you feel about her better than you know, Harry, and it’s both terrifying and comforting to see a boy think that way about my daughter.”  
  
Harry nodded and packed the last few items into his luggage.  
  
“I think that’s everything,” Harry said, giving the room one more search just in case.  
  
“Do you remember everything I explained about what Liz has planned for when we get there?” Michael asked.  
  
“Yes Michael,” Harry said, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.  
  
“And do you remember what your part in that is? What your options are?”  
  
“Yes, although…” Harry wavered for a moment. “I have… my own little plan for the end.”  
  
“Oh?” Michael looked at Harry, intrigued. “I’m sure that you’ll be just fine Harry, and I’m sure that Hermione will say yes.”  
  
“I know…” Harry said with a sigh, closing his luggage and preparing to leave. “That’s part of the reason that I’m so nervous.”  
  
###  
  
“Mistress, I’m so nervous!” Hermione nearly whined. “He’ll be here in just a few hours!”  
  
“What are you nervous about?” Elizabeth asked, amused. “He’s going to offer you the option to submit, you _have_ to believe that given everything so far.”  
  
“But what if he’s not satisfied with me? What if I’m not good enough?”  
  
Elizabeth frowned at her daughter. Where had this line of thinking come from?  
  
“Why would you think that?” Elizabeth asked gently. “Hermione, that boy adores you, that’s plainly obvious to me and your father.”  
  
“Are you sure though?” Hermione asked earnestly. “What if… he wishes he had someone else? Someone more experienced? Someone like—” Hermione stopped talking and looked down uncomfortably. Elizabeth’s concerned expression turned to one of understanding.  
  
“Someone like me?” she asked softly. “Is that what you’re worried about? That he’ll compare you to me and he’ll wish he had the creaky, wrinkly, older woman instead?”  
  
“That’s—!” Hermione huffed. “You’re not at all wrinkly, Mistress. You look amazing! You have that full woman beauty! And I’m just…” She shifted uncomfortably. “I’m so plain mum,” she said in a voice that broke slightly. Elizabeth didn’t even have it in her to remind her to use ‘Mistress’ instead. “I’m sure I’ll grow into my teeth eventually but for now they make me look ridiculous, and my hair hasn’t settled into the wavy strands like yours, it’s still just a nightmare.” Hermione sighed. “I know I’m not… ugly, my face isn’t repulsive, but I don’t have any attractive dimples, or a button nose, or anything like that. I’m just Hermione.”  
  
“Sweetie,” Elizabeth started, “you know that Harry finds you attractive. Don’t you remember the way he reacted when you talked to him? What you told me about that conversation? You may think yourself plain, but clearly he sees something you don’t.”  
  
“It’s not just that though mum,” Hermione said, her eyes starting to water. “You… you’ve been doing this for _years_ , and I’m just starting. What if he’s frustrated by having a slave with so little experience? What if he wishes he was back in the lessons with you instead?” Hermione’s voice dropped to almost a whisper. “How can I compete with that?”  
  
“Hermione,” Elizabeth said firmly, pulling her daughter into a hug. “You don’t have to compete with that at all. Every time I saw him, it was obvious that anything he saw me do, anything he saw _at all_ , the thing going through his mind was ‘I wonder how Hermione would look if she were like this?’ Honestly I think he’ll be comforted that you will be discovering and learning together.” Elizabeth gave Hermione’s hair a few slow strokes. “Sweetie, you know Harry, don’t you think he’ll be glad to know that he’ll be learning with someone who’s figuring things out as they go also?”  
  
“Yeah,” Hermione agreed with a sniff. “I guess you’re right…”  
  
They held each other like that for a short while, Hermione finding comfort in her mother’s arms, before pulling back with a last few sniffles.  
  
“You… You said we needed to prepare for their arrival?” Hermione asked. “What do we need to do?”  
  
“Well, take your clothes off and stand back slut,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “I want to inspect you.”  
  
“Yes Mistress,” Hermione said, stepping back and stripping off her clothes without even a hint of embarrassment. She discarded her clothes to the side, but since she had only been wearing a t-shirt and shorts, there wasn’t much to remove.  
  
“Spread your legs and put your arms out at shoulder height to the side,” Elizabeth commanded. Hermione shifted into the appropriate stance, allowing Elizabeth full access to every part of her. “Now, let’s see just how far you’ve come…”  
  
Elizabeth walked up just a few inches from Hermione’s face, but Hermione kept her eyes straight forward.  
  
“Good girl,” Elizabeth said. “Your eyes aren’t wandering.” She glanced around Hermione’s face briefly. “And you’re doing the light foundation every morning like I said.”  
  
Hermione hadn’t regularly worn makeup before, and even now Elizabeth didn’t think it was something Hermione would ever use regularly in a heavy way. But applying foundation and smoothing the skin on the face, blending it, didn’t take very long and went a long way towards softening a lot of her facial features. It also didn’t hurt that it minimized the dark circles under her eyes, a symptom of stress and overwork that Elizabeth had been most unpleased to find on Hermione’s complexion.  
  
“Breathe out through the mouth,” Elizabeth said, and when Hermione did, Elizabeth sniffed slightly. “Good. Fresh breath. You’ve been brushing and rinsing after your ‘morning drink’ just like you’re supposed to.”  
  
Elizabeth began to slowly go over every inch of skin on her daughter. Checking for any bruises or marks that may have been missed. She walked around Hermione’s still form, slowly traveling downward until she got to Hermione’s chest.  
  
“What’s your cup size slut?”  
  
“B-cup, Mistress,” Hermione muttered.  
  
Elizabeth reached up and gave Hermione a relatively tame slap across the face.  
  
“Say it proudly slut, these tits are adorable.”  
  
“B-cup, Mistress!” Hermione said with much more confidence.  
  
“There we go.” Elizabeth reached forward and flicked Hermione’s nipples a few times, watching as they hardened. “Cute and pert,” Elizabeth commented. The older woman continued her inspection, reaching Hermione’s behind. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear the bruising from your lashes has completely faded,” Elizabeth said.  
  
“Thank you, Mistress,” Hermione replied, feeling herself tingle slightly at the reminder of her very first night as a sub.  
  
Elizabeth reached out and pulled Hermione’s cheeks apart, smirking as she heard the involuntary gasp escape her daughter’s lips. Wetting a finger in her mouth, Elizabeth pressed against the rosebud of darker skin where up until this morning a plug had been nearly every single minute for the last week. The finger slipped in with almost no resistance, and Elizabeth hummed in approval.  
  
The point of using a plug wasn’t to make an ass ‘looser’. While you could generally loosen someone up like that temporarily, given recovery time it would tighten back up. Generally speaking it wasn’t normally possible or safe to ‘stretch’ someone’s cunt or ass for a ‘permanent’ loosening. No, instead the point was to train the muscles to relax so that it was easier for something to enter or exit. In the case of the dildo, it was to help train the muscles inside her cunt to grip stronger. At this point Hermione relaxed her ass almost instinctively, which was exactly what Elizabeth had been trying for.  
  
“Good girl,” Elizabeth said fondly, wiggling her finger in Hermione’s ass slightly. Hermione moaned slightly, but did an overall admirable job of remaining quiet. She pulled out her finger and reached over her shoulder to put it in front of Hermione’s lips. “Clean it.”  
  
Normally this was something of an iffy prospect for most people, but Elizabeth had given Hermione an enema and a vigorous shower this morning to ensure she was extra-clean, inside and out. Hermione opened her mouth obediently and sucked the finger that had been inside her only moments ago. Satisfied, Elizabeth removed the finger and moved to Hermione’s front.  
  
“Let’s see here…” Elizabeth knelt down to poke and feel around Hermione’s lips. “You’re wet and ready, as a good slut should be. Your skin… yes, you’ve been doing an excellent job shaving.” Elizabeth dragged her fingers across Hermione’s skin. “I don’t feel or see any nicks. You’ve been doing a good job, slut. It’s very smooth and soft.”  
  
Elizabeth took a finger, from the hand she hadn’t used on Hermione’s ass, and pushed into her daughter’s cunt eliciting another slight moan. Pulling the finger out and looking at the wetness that covered it, Elizabeth gave it a sniff, then put it in her mouth for a taste.  
  
“Mmm…” Elizabeth considered, pulling her finger out of her mouth. “You’ve been keeping to the high fruit diet, I can tell by the taste.” Elizabeth looked up from between Hermione’s legs. “Would you like a taste slut?”  
  
“Y-Yes Mistress,” Hermione replied breathlessly. Elizabeth shoved her finger back in, gave a couple of rough thrusts, then stood and pushed the dirty finger past Hermione’s lips.  
  
“That’s a good slut,” Elizabeth said. “Enjoy the taste of your cunt.”  
  
Elizabeth removed her finger from Hermione’s mouth and went to finish her inspection.  
  
“Well, your legs seem fairly smooth as well, but you should see about getting waxed.” Elizabeth stood up again and looked at her daughter. “Or perhaps there’s a hair removal spell that’s more… permanent?”  
  
Hermione’s eyes seemed to widen, clearly surprised that the thought hadn’t occurred to her.  
  
“I’ll research it, Mistress.”  
  
“No,” Elizabeth said. “Ask your Dom later if that’s what he wants. You won’t be my slut after today.” Elizabeth stepped back. “Go ahead and relax now, slut. I’m done with my inspection.”  
  
Hermione dropped her arms and looked at her mother with a happy smile, clearly pleased with her Mistress’ approval.  
  
“What else do we need to do to get ready?” Hermione asked.  
  
“Well,” Elizabeth said with a conspiratorial grin. “We have some matching outfits to get into, but first, I’m going to help you with all that makeup and hair-care that you don’t usually do. I know it’s not something that you would do everyday, but today isn’t just any day.” Elizabeth started walking out of the room. “Come on, we have a lot to do before they arrive.”  
  
###  
  
Hermione’s heart thudded in her chest as she looked into the mirror, her mother standing behind her with a proud look.  
  
_Is that really me?_ Hermione thought to herself, still captivated by the image of herself. She looked… beautiful. Even Hermione could admit that. She didn’t look like a movie star or a model, but she looked far more… desirable than she thought she had any right to be. So long as she didn’t show her over-large teeth that is… she really didn’t like how they made her look.  
  
Hermione inspected her outfit, knowing that her Mistress was wearing a matching one. A corset that covered only the bottom third of her tits, a black garter belt, and some lacy black stockings connected to them. Nothing else. She looked like she was made for one thing right now: sexual pleasure.  
  
_I wonder what everyone at Hogwarts would think of this?_ The thought went through Hermione’s mind and caused a surprised giggle to escape. _Perhaps they’d just be thankful that I have something that can calm me down now…_  
  
“They should be here soon,” Elizabeth told her softly. “Let get into position downstairs.”  
  
Hermione gave herself another glance in the mirror.  
  
“Er… Mistress?”  
  
“It’s just mum now, Hermione,” Elizabeth said with a smile.  
  
“Mum,” Hermione replied grinning. “Didn’t you tell me to, er, maintain my modesty around dad? Isn’t he going to be walking in the door too?”  
  
“That’s very thoughtful, Hermione,” Elizabeth said, nodding, “but he knows. This is for Harry, not for him. Don’t worry about it, sweetie.”  
  
Hermione gave herself one last look then turned and walked out the door. Within a few minutes they were in the living room, kneeling down and sitting on their heels, legs slightly spread and hands behind their backs. Elizabeth had set out two small pillows for them to kneel on.  
  
“This is very much like what your father calls position three,” Elizabeth said. “Except in that position you’re also looking at the ceiling. It’s a good position for attaching a collar.”  
  
“A collar?” Hermione asked, glancing at her mother. “Is… is he going to give me a collar, mum?” Hermione couldn’t keep the hopeful excitement out of her voice.  
  
“I’m not sure sweetie,” Elizabeth said. “Maybe not this afternoon. I don’t think he has one, and your father hasn’t told me about explaining the importance of collars yet.”  
  
“Oh.” Hermione couldn’t hide the disappointment she felt.  
  
“But it’s possible,” Elizabeth comforted. “Your father hasn’t told me everything they’ve discussed. Even if he doesn’t today, I’m sure he’ll want to soon.”  
  
Every minute that passed was excruciating to Hermione. The adrenaline had long ago worn out, but every time a car drove by it felt like another batch was dumped into her veins for a few moments. The small talk that her and her mother occupied the time with was pleasant, and almost enough to make the waiting bearable. For the whole week her mother had transformed into her Mistress, and had been training and preparing her. That’s what Hermione had wanted, what she had craved, but she had still missed having more time to just be friends with her mother.  
  
Hermione’s skin felt like it became electrified when she heard a car door close in the driveway.  
  
_They’re here!_  
  
“Eyes ahead, sweetie,” Elizabeth whispered, pulling herself upright into a more controlled position. “But it’s okay to smile, don’t hide your happiness.”  
  
Hermione wasn’t sure it would be possible anyway, so it was probably fortunate that her mother didn’t consider it necessary. She heard each footfall on the path, the shuffling of some luggage, then… the scraping of a key! This was it!  
  
The latch turned and the door opened, and out of the corner of her eyes Hermione could tell that two people had walked in the front door off to her left. Hermione focused, using her considerable willpower to keep her eyes from wandering over and looking at Harry’s expression. She wanted to see what he was thinking, she had always been able to tell what he was thinking from his face. Was he surprised? Disappointed? Bored? Annoyed?  
  
“Hello, Hermione.”  
  
The voice startled her. She’d gotten so inside her own head she hadn’t even noticed that he’d walked over to her.  
  
“H-Hello… Harry.”  
  
There was silence. From the periphery of her vision she thought that maybe Harry was looking behind him for something? Was he looking at her father?  
  
“You can look at me,” Harry said in a gentle voice.  
  
Now that he had given her permission to look she almost didn’t want to. She was still wrapped up in her thoughts. What would she see? As soon as she looked it would be real. It wouldn’t be a fantasy anymore, whatever the consequences were they couldn’t be taken back. As long as she didn’t look—  
  
“Look at me, Hermione.” The much more firm voice caused her to respond almost instinctively, and what she saw made her heart jump directly to her throat where it proceeded to hold her breath hostage.  
  
Harry was wearing well fitting clothes. Some kind of black turtle-neck and jeans, and the effect on his appearance was quite breathtaking. She’d always found him rather handsome, but she’d never really seen him in clothes that actually made him look good, other than perhaps his Quidditch robes. She wasn’t sure if it was the outfit or if it was the training, but compared to before Harry was positively exuding an air of confidence that made her shudder. The thing that really made her woozy though was the expression on his face.  
  
He was looking at her. He was looking _at her_.  
  
He was looking at her like she was the only thing in the entire world that was worthy of his attention, and he appeared unbelievably pleased to be doing so. Perhaps he was pleased with her makeup, or the fact that her mother had helped tame her hair. Perhaps it was the extremely sexy outfit that allowed him a perfect view of all her most intimate parts. Perhaps it was because he really did want _her_ as his sub. At that moment, Hermione didn’t quite know, and to be truthful she couldn’t quite care. She was his. She was _always_ his. She _would always be_ his. That was the choice her heart made in that single look.  
  
“I’ve been thinking about you,” Harry said, his intense expression turning into a grin. “I see you’ve, er… gotten new clothes.”  
  
Hermione blushed furiously, just now remembering that her chest and crotch were bare for him, and looked away.  
  
“Hermione…” Harry said teasingly. “I thought I told you to look at me.”  
  
Hermione’s flushed face burned even hotter as she turned her eyes back to him, upset with herself for making such a simple mistake.  
  
_Where did all that training go?_ She thought idly, getting lost in his gaze again. _It’s like I can’t think through his stare._  
  
“Sorry, Harry… You’ve never… looked at me like that before.” Hermione paused, fighting the urge to look away again. She dropped her voice lower. “It’s… doing something wonderful to me.”  
  
“I’m…” Harry said in a bit of a shaky voice. “I’m happy to hear that.” Harry took a few moments collecting himself, and Hermione was surprised at how he seemed to transform in front of her, determination flowing off him. “Hermione Jean Granger.” Her heart sped up considerably. “Do you choose to submit yourself to me?”  
  
“Yes Harry.” She spoke the words nearly as fast as she thought them.  
  
“Do you choose to follow my commands and instructions?”  
  
“Yes Harry.” This was the series of questions that her mother had warned her about.  
  
“Do you choose to accept my corrections and punishments?”  
  
“Yes Harry.” He was asking her to be his.  
  
“Do you choose to be my sub?”  
  
“Yes Harry.” His to control.  
  
“Do you choose to be my slave?”  
  
“Yes Harry.” In every way.  
  
“Why do you submit yourself to me?” Harry’s question made her falter for a second. That hadn’t been one of the things she’d been told to expect. Harry’s eyes softened. “From the heart, there’s no wrong answer.”  
  
Hermione relaxed at this, took a few breaths, and answered.  
  
“I… I submit myself because this is who I am. I’m… I’ve been drawn to this for a long time, Harry, but never outside of you. I haven’t told anyone this, not even my parents, but… the very first time I ever felt the desire to submit myself, it was thinking about you. There’s never been a time for me where submission and you were separate.” Hermione paused, and she couldn’t stop herself from looking down at his feet. “Submission is part of who I am… just as much as you are.”  
  
She felt her eyes begin to water. Were these happy tears? Stress tears? Tears of pure emotional release? Was that too much? Should she have been that honest? What—  
  
Harry’s hand underneath her chin pulled her eyes back up to his face, and the questions dissolved away in her mind. She’d lost sight of him, and the panic had returned. She couldn’t keep making that mistake.  
  
“Hermione…” Harry said, his voice cracking slightly. His hand reached up from her chin and wiped a few of her tears away. “I don’t think anyone has ever told me something so beautiful.” She saw his eyes begin to water as well. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen something so beautiful…”  
  
She watched as Harry reached behind his back, like he was pulling something out of his back pocket, and when his hand came back into view her breath caught again. He was holding a collar. A beautiful, elegant collar. It was black and about an inch wide, and looked like it was made of some kind of leather, but the way it moved was a little too smooth. On the front of it, in golden letters the same as a snitch, she saw the word ‘slave’ in fancy looking script. The letters shimmered in a way that was a little too eye-catching, and Hermione’s eyes widened as she realized that this must be a magical collar of some kind.  
  
“This,” Harry said, “is what I offer to you.” Harry paused and took a deep breath, clearly being careful to repeat the words as they were taught to him. “A collar between a Master and slave is a physical representation of the commitment they are making. The pledge you are making to be mine, body and soul, and the promise I am making to guide you, protect you, control you, and help you grow.” Harry took another deep breath. “By accepting this collar you are giving yourself to me wholly and freely, aware of all that it represents. Do you understand?”  
  
Hermione could hardly believe what she had just heard, and felt tears rolling down both her cheeks in earnest.  
  
“Y-Yes… Master.”  
  
Harry paused at that for a moment.  
  
“Do you accept this commitment and give yourself completely?”  
  
“Yes, Master.”  
  
Harry knelt down on one knee so that he was level with her and reached forward with the collar towards her neck.  
  
“Up until now, you’ve been Hermione Jean Granger, but once this locks that’s no longer who you’ll be. You’ll be my property. You’ll be my slave. You’ll be my pet.” Harry smiled. “You’ll be my friend, and my heart.”  
  
Hermione smiled at him brilliantly through her watery eyes and lifted her chin up so that he had clear access to her neck, the only response she could bring herself to give. Harry’s hand passed her shoulders and she felt the band press against her skin, in the front at first, then around the sides, until finally she felt him fasten the collar at the back of her neck. It didn’t seem to latch or click, it just kind of melted together against her skin, a perfect fit.  
  
“What were you before?” Harry whispered.  
  
“Hermione Jean Granger,” she whispered back.  
  
“What are you now?” Harry asked.  
  
“Yours.”  
  
Harry leaned forward and pulled her into his arms. They stayed like that for a while, enjoying each other’s company and companionship, filled with an emotion neither had ever experienced with another person. It was the most powerful experience that either had ever had, and it was almost surreal to experience. It was such a crescendo of feeling that a part of Hermione felt as if this was the natural conclusion of the Universe. As if when this moment ended the Universe would end with it, because surely the purpose of all existence had finally been fulfilled.  
  
But after a while Harry pulled back, still smiling, and Hermione couldn’t help the few happy sobs that escaped her.  
  
“We’re almost done,” Harry said, standing and stepping back. Hermione looked up at him, happy but confused about what he wanted. “Stand up.”  
  
She wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but she realized with a wave of relief as the thought passed through her that she didn’t have to. All she had to do was follow his orders.  
  
“From this point forward slave, you'll never leave me, and I'll never leave you.”  
  
“Yes, Master,” she said, a thrill traveling through every single muscle in her body at hearing him call her that.  
  
“So this is the last time we’ll ever have to greet each other. The last time we’ll ever say hello, so let’s make this hello count.” Harry held out his hand. “Hello slave, I’m your Master. A pleasure to meet you.”  
  
Hermione smiled, reaching out and gripping his hand.  
  
“Hello Master, I’m your slave. The pleasure is mine.”  
  
Harry pulled Hermione forward by her hand and she let out a small squeak of surprise before finding her lips suddenly occupied. It took a second, but when she worked out what was happening, that her new Master was kissing her and holding her pressed against him, she practically melted into his body.  
  
“That was the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen!” Elizabeth’s voice exclaimed from somewhere to the side. They both jumped, breaking apart. Hermione had forgotten, and Harry had as well apparently, that Michael and Elizabeth were still in the room. “Tell me you got all of it, Michael.”  
  
Hermione glanced over at her father and froze when she saw him holding the family’s VHS camcorder towards her and Harry. She was very suddenly, and very quickly, reminded that her clothes covered nothing important. Her hands flew up to cover herself, but almost as quickly Harry reached over and grabbed one of her wrists.  
  
“No,” he said gently. “I talked about it with Michael before. I wanted it on camera so that we could look back at it. The video is just for us, so there’s no reason to cover up.”  
  
Hermione looked into his face and felt her fear and embarrassment wash away.  
  
_If he says it’s okay… then… it’s okay._  
  
She dropped her hands to her sides and smiled shyly at the camera.  
  
“Thank you, daddy,” she said softly.  
  
“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he said from behind the camera. “Harry, can you…?”  
  
“Oh!” Harry said, stepping forward. “Right.”  
  
Harry reached out and took the camera from Michael, turning it around to point it at Michael and Elizabeth. Hermione watched as Elizabeth looked at Harry confused, then up at Michael. She was still in the same kneeling position that they’d been waiting in.  
  
“Position three,” Michael said calmly. Elizabeth instantly snapped into position, holding herself rigid. “Pet, for twenty-two years we have explored all that this lifestyle has to offer. You’ve always kept to the commitment that you made when you accepted the first collar I gave you right after our wedding, and I don’t think there’s any Master in the world as happy as I am with you.”  
  
Hermione was fascinated to watch the way her mother was reacting. There was a definite shyness and embarrassment in her face that was incongruous with the Mistress she had known for the last week.  
  
“This week I gave you your hardest assignment ever: to go against your nature and train our daughter as her Domme. I then gave you another difficult task: to present yourself for Harry so that he could learn and explore to better understand what Hermione was asking him to be.” Michael turned and looked at the teenagers with a smile. “I think the results speak to your success, on both counts.”  
  
Michael looked back at his wife and pulled out a collar that looked very similar to the one now around Hermione’s neck. She looked carefully and read the word ‘forever’ on the front in silver script.  
  
“Ever since Hermione started her magical schooling, you’ve asked me, begged me, to put you in a collar for good. To put it on, and never let it come off. Today I’m going to make your wish come true.” He smiled as he dangled the collar where she could see it. “Today this goes around your neck, and I’ll let it stay there until the day we die if that’s your wish.”  
  
Hermione’s eyes widened as she heard an honest-to-God whimper escape her mother’s mouth.  
  
“This isn’t a normal collar, pet. This is a special little thing that I got with Harry in Diagon Alley. This won’t just be your last collar, it’ll be your first little bit of magic that you get to share with your daughter. You see, hers was bought at the same time from the same shop, and they share some special properties. The most important of which is that you can communicate with each other, regardless of distance or magical barriers.”  
  
“Are… Are you serious Michael?” Elizabeth asked in a quiet voice. Hermione could hear the slight tremble in her tone.  
  
“Of course pet,” he said with a smile. “Our little princess will never be too far away from us now.”  
  
Hermione was overwhelmed at this information and looked at Harry, bursting with joy.  
  
“Thank you, Master,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck.  
  
“You’re welcome,” he said with a chuckle.  
  
“Now,” Michael continued, “I want you to understand something about this collar. It draws it’s magic from Hermione, that’s one of the reasons they are paired. It’s how we were able to make a magical collar that would work for you. I can control the functions of the collar using voice commands, but because the collar is sealed and powered using Hermione’s magic, once it is on only Hermione or Harry can remove it.” Michael paused and gave Elizabeth a serious look. “Look at me, pet.” Elizabeth’s eyes moved from their normal place in position three to look at her husband. “If I put this on, it will be literally impossible for us to remove it without their help. It has properties that will allow us to hide it from others if we need to, and make sure you can clean yourself, but it will always be there unless they help us remove it. Do you still want me to put it on?”  
  
Elizabeth gave Michael a determined look.  
  
“Yes, Master. Please.”  
  
Michael nodded, knelt down, and reached forward.  
  
“I don’t know if you noticed,” Michael said softly as his hands reached around her neck, “but it says ‘forever’ on the front of the collar, because that’s how long it will be there.” Michael connected the ends at the back of Elizabeth’s neck and felt them merge into a seamless band, tightly hugging every curve.  
  
Hermione felt herself swoon slightly at the shared moment she was witnessing.  
  
“That’s so romantic,” she said under her breath. Harry glanced over at her.  
  
“You think so?” he asked.  
  
“Yeah,” Hermione said, grinning. “What can I say… to a sub… this is about as romantic as it gets.”  
  
Harry looked back at Elizabeth and Michael who were now embracing each other.  
  
“Is that good Michael?” Harry asked. Michael glanced over, his eyes settling on the camera.  
  
“Yes Harry, that’s fine.” Harry turned the record button off and set the camera down. “Go ahead and go upstairs, you two. Be down in a bit for lunch.” Michael paused. “Hermione, if you’re not already packed you’ll want to do that before lunch. You and Harry will be leaving right after.”  
  
“Yes daddy,” she said, looking down at the floor.  
  
“Come on,” Harry said, pulling her by her wrist. “Let’s go.”  
  
They left the living room and walked up the stairs to Hermione’s room, closing the door behind them.  
  
“Alright,” Harry said. “Sit on the bed, I’ll sit in the chair.”  
  
“Yes Master,” Hermione agreed happily, taking her assigned seat. Harry gave her a grin.  
  
“Hermione, we’re going to talk about some limits and needs and things like that. When we’re having that sort of conversation, I want you to call me Harry, even if we’re alone.”  
  
“Alright Harry,” Hermione said with a soft smile.  
  
“Now, first, do you have any preference on how you’d like to refer to me?” Harry’s tone was noticeably less even, which caught Hermione slightly off-guard. For the whole ceremony downstairs, he’d been strong and confident, but now he sounded unsure.  
  
_He probably practiced that whole thing with dad,_ Hermione decided. _But this is all new territory._  
  
“Honestly Harry, I don’t mind as long as it’s a name you like hearing me call you.” She tried to give him an encouraging look. “I’m fine with calling you Master, or just Harry if that makes you more happy.”  
  
Harry leaned back and seemed to consider this.  
  
“I think… how about when we’re where other people can definitely hear us, you call me Harry. When we’re where other people might hear us, you can call me Sir. And when we’re completely alone, you can call me Master.” He looked back at her and smiled. “That can be our special term for just being with each other.”  
  
“I like that,” Hermione agreed giving him a demure look.  
  
“Now,” Harry said, his face turning into a slight frown. “What should I call _you_?” He gave Hermione a questioning look. “Do you have any names you’d prefer? Or that you’d definitely not enjoy?”  
  
Hermione thought for a few moments.  
  
“Well… I know that I enjoy the… humiliation aspects… but please don’t call me Mudblood, that’s the only one I really wouldn’t enjoy in any way Harry.”  
  
Harry looked at her in outrage.  
  
“Hermione,” he said lowly, “you don’t _ever_ have to worry about me calling you _that_.” He paused and seemed to calm himself. “Is that… really the only name you definitely don’t want?”  
  
“The only one that comes to mind,” Hermione replied curiously. “What other names were you worried about?”  
  
“Well…” Harry blushed ever so slightly and looked up towards the ceiling, thinking. “Uh… slut?” Hermione shifted ever so slightly. “Cunt?” She fidgeted a bit. “Whore? Bitch?” Hermione squeezed her legs together. “Fucktoy?” She realized she was breathing heavy. “Kitten?” She choked off a whimper in her throat. “Pet?”  
  
“Sir?… Uh, I mean, Harry?” Hermione sounded a bit strained and Harry looked back down at her. “I, uh… I pretty much enjoyed all of those.”  
  
“You did?” Harry asked, looking a bit surprised. “Really?”  
  
“Do you… uh… want proof?”  
  
“Uh…” Harry looked a bit lost. “Sure.”  
  
Hermione spread her legs apart slightly and ran a finger through her slit, shuddering at the brief sensation, before holding her finger out so that Harry could see the wetness she’d collected. His eyes were wide, and he stared at her finger for a second before looking past it to her face and noticing how flushed she was.  
  
“I see,” he said softly. His face hardened briefly. “Clean your finger.”  
  
Hermione shivered as she pushed her finger past her lips and tasted just how aroused listening to Harry’s voice had made her.  
  
“So then,” Harry said, a grin on his face. It seemed that he’d found a bit of confidence in that exchange. “I guess the question is which names are appropriate for which situations.”  
  
“May I… make a suggestion?” Hermione asked. It was obvious that she was still highly aroused.  
  
“Go ahead,” Harry told her nodding.  
  
“Um… when we’re around other people and I would call you Harry, calling me Hermione is probably best, but… when I would call you Sir, maybe… kitten? Or pet?” Hermione looked down at her knees. “O-Other times… the… dirtier names, I think.”  
  
“Alright,” Harry said with a slight smirk. “But, when we’re talking about the limits and rules, like right now… or just whenever I feel like it… I’ll call you Hermione.” He paused. “I’ve always thought it was a pretty name.”  
  
“R-Really?” Hermione asked, surprised. “I’ve always thought it was… well, a bit odd I guess. Not a very common name.”  
  
“You’re not a very common person,” Harry countered easily. Hermione didn’t know what to say to that, so she didn’t say anything at all. “My other important question is what your limits are.”  
  
“Umm…” Hermione fidgeted again. “I… haven’t really found anything that’s a limit yet, Harry. I… I think I want to try what my mum and dad do… at least with you. No limits. I’ll just… trust you.”  
  
“You trust me that much?” Harry asked, surprised. She looked at him with a slightly annoyed expression, and for some reason it made Harry feel better that she still had it in her to give him that familiar look of reprimand.  
  
“Honestly, Harry, do you really need to ask? After what happened a few weeks ago with Sirius?”  
  
“Yeah,” Harry said, looking a bit sheepish. “I suppose you’re right.” He looked thoughtful. “But, if we’re not going to have pre-set limits, then we need a safeword.”  
  
“How about…” Hermione chewed on her bottom lip for a second before she lit up and then gave him a pleased smile. “How about ‘Hippogriff’?”  
  
Harry let out a short, sharp laugh.  
  
“Was my little slut getting all hot and bothered while we flew into the night together to save my godfather?”  
  
Hermione’s smile vanished and her eyes went wide.  
  
“M-Maybe…”  
  
Harry let out another short laugh. He looked around the room before his eyes settled on Hermione again.  
  
“We should get you packed. We’re going to be gone for a week.”  
  
“Where are we going?” Hermione asked curiously. “Mum never told me.”  
  
“Well,” Harry said conspiratorially, “Michael was able to rent a flat in Horizont Alley, and he spent most of the evenings over the last week getting it all set up and furnished. We’re going to be staying there to help your parents prepare it so that they can live there in the future.”  
  
“Oh,” Hermione said surprised. “That… makes a lot of sense.”  
  
“Exactly,” Harry said, standing up. “Now come on, we’ve got to pack then head down for lunch.”  
  
###  
  
Harry and Hermione each lifted their trunks, and carried them towards the door.  
  
“Thanks for the lunch Michael, Elizabeth,” Harry said. “It was delicious.”  
  
“Of course,” Elizabeth said. Harry could swear that Elizabeth was holding her head higher so that her collar was more visible, but then… Harry glanced over at Hermione. Yep. She was doing the same thing.  
  
“You remember the address, right Harry?” Michael asked.  
  
“I do,” he said, nodding.  
  
“Don’t forget the Rune Key,” Michael reminded him, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a perfectly spherical black stone. “Wouldn’t want you two to be locked out on your first night.”  
  
“No,” Harry agree with a grin, “we wouldn’t want that.”  
  
“How are we getting there Sir?” Hermione asked him. She had put a summer dress on over her corset and leggings for traveling, but she didn’t seem to mind the fact that her neck and the collar on it were plainly visible.  
  
“Well, I reckoned we could take the Knight Bus.”  
  
Hermione paused and considered his answer before nodding.  
  
“Yes, that does seem like the best way, Sir.”  
  
Harry let out a breath. It was… going to take a while to get used to that.  
  
“Now,” Michael cut in, “remember that we’ll be dropping by for dinner in a few days to check on you two.”  
  
“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it,” Harry said.  
  
“Also remember your gifts,” Michael said, indicating the wrapped box next to Hermione’s trunk. She picked it up and placed it inside, making space.  
  
“What exactly are they?” Harry asked curiously.  
  
“Some… toys that you might find useful,” Michael said simply. “So remember to open it once you get there.”  
  
“And don’t forget to use the contraceptive charm on the collar, sweetie,” Elizabeth added. Hermione, for her part, blushed and mumbled a faint acknowledgment before becoming interested with something on her trunk. Harry wasn’t much better off at the comment, but decided that it was sort of up to him as the Dom to weather that kind of thing.  
  
“Right, we won’t forget Elizabeth,” Harry said. He got a grin, and decided that turnabout was fair play when it came to embarrassment. “Pardon me, how rude. I meant, we won’t forget, _cunt_.”  
  
Michael roared with laughter while Elizabeth took her turn to become interested in the floor. Harry felt the heat in his own face as well, but it was worth it to tease Hermione’s parents back.  
  
“We’ll see you in a few days,” Michael called after them as they walked out the front door.  
  
Harry glanced at Hermione, nodded, and raised his wand. With a crack, the obscene looking triple-decker bus slammed into view, and the couple started lugging their trunks towards the door.  
  
###  
  
**Author's Note:** I sincerely hope that this chapter was worth the wait, I know a lot of you have been waiting for this moment. Next chapter, Harry and Hermione's first night alone together!  
  
If you’re interested, you’re welcome to join me on my Discord server:  
  
<https://discord.gg/TQ25x5u>


	10. Permanent

Chapter 10  
Permanent  
  
###  
  
Hermione looked around the room as she unpacked the things from her trunk. It was a fairly large room all things considered, but then it was a magical dwelling so it could be a bit bigger than was strictly allowed. Placing the gift from her parents on the bed and her schoolwork on the desk, Hermione stood back and attempted to decide what to do now that she had some time of her own.  
  
Her week with her mother had been intense and all consuming, but that’s what had been expected. Wanted, even. Hermione had asked to be trained, to be prepared, and her parents had responded by giving her and Harry a crash-course in the roles they would fit into. But it had left precious little time for some of the other things that Hermione enjoyed dearly, like reading. Reading for pleasure was certainly one the oldest pastimes she still indulged in, even if she hadn’t yet figured out how to convince Harry or Ron to appreciate it as well.  
  
_I wonder if I can get Harry to spend some time reading while we’re here?_ Hermione thought. She frowned. _Master. When we’re alone, it’s Master. I need to get used to that when I’m not… overwhelmingly horny._  
  
Hermione looked down at the light blue summer dress she was still wearing and sighed. The last week had been extra stressful, what with all the concern about Harry and his acceptance of this part of her, so it had been very fortunate that there had been so much extra stress relief. Now though she was having to fight the feeling that all that time had been a waste. Certainly she had gotten a great deal of her homework finished, but she was honest enough with herself to admit that she’d never been the kind of person that felt like making allowances for pampering, or indulging her own desires or pleasures that much. Just enjoying herself had always felt so unproductive. She ran her hands along her own hips, feeling the garter she was still wearing under the dress.  
  
_That’s part of why I want this though, why I need this._ She moved her hands up to feel the corset. _It doesn’t feel like I should enjoy myself this much, but I can also understand that it’s normal and necessary to do so. This is the only thing that really makes me feel like enjoying myself is okay._  
  
Hermione glanced at the other trunk in the room and decided to unpack for Harry as well since he was currently busy making them both dinner. Opening it she crinkled her nose at the disarray of items inside.  
  
_Honestly, would it be too much trouble to at least make sure the books and parchment don’t get folded or crumpled?_  
  
She started to pull the items out, placing Harry’s clothes in the closet and his school things near the desk with hers. Not quite sure what to do with his personal items, such as his Firebolt, she started to place them next to his side of the bed. She blushed at that.  
  
_His side of the bed… we’re going to be sleeping in the same bed. I wonder if he’ll want to go all the way?_ She could feel her stress and mania rising. _I mean, I did agree to be his slave, and he did see me basically naked, at least from a distance, but still, we are a little young. Perhaps he’ll want to wait? Or maybe he’s just not that sexually attracted to me?_ She bit her lower lip. _I guess… it’s possible that all the sexual aspects of this are more like the chores he has to endure as part of the control? Or to give me what I want? I am almost one year older, perhaps he hasn’t gone through that much of puberty yet._  
  
Hermione started pacing.  
  
_Or what if all he wants to do is sex instead? What if I don’t have time for any of my reading or school work? I agreed to be his, and that’s what I want, but would I need to set a limit for that?_ She frowned. _Alright, Hermione… calm down. One of the reasons you agreed to be Harry’s slave — Master’s slave — is because you do this all the time. He’s a teenage boy, of course he’ll want to use you sexually, just like you want to be used. But he’s also still Harry… he’s not going to turn into a maniac because you’re wearing his collar._  
  
Hermione stopped pacing and reached up to feel the collar, a faint smile gracing her lips. She loved the feeling of it always being there, and what it meant. She didn’t have a problem with Harry wanting to actually have sex with her, if that’s what he decided. Harry was… the most important person to her, and the whole reason she felt like this was a good idea was because she trusted him to not abuse her submission. He knew she cared about her grades and assignments, he knew she loved learning and reading, and he wouldn’t stop her from achieving.  
  
“Are you ready for—” Harry’s voice cut short as he walked into the room, and Hermione turned to face him. She saw him looking at the bed. “Did… you unpack my things?”  
  
“Yes Master,” Hermione said with a smile.  
  
“Hermione,” Harry said with a frown, “why did you go through my things without asking?”  
  
Hermione’s eyes widened and she dropped her gaze to the floor.  
  
“I’m sorry Master, I should have left them in your trunk.”  
  
“I’m pleased that you did it, Hermione,” Harry said gently, “just not without asking.”  
  
Hermione continued looking at the floor.  
  
_Stupid! Some slave you are, can’t even respect the privacy of Master’s closed trunk!_  
  
“What will my punishment be?” Hermione asked softly.  
  
“Punishment?” Harry sounded incredulous. “For doing me a favor in a mildly inconsiderate way?”  
  
Harry watched as Hermione fidgeted, still looking at the floor. He was going to have to watch how he said things, he decided. The way he’d phrased his question had sounded more like an accusation, and with the arrangement they’d both agreed to it would make sense that Hermione would take that sort of thing badly. He wasn’t really that upset about it, more surprised, but now that he considered it there was a sort of sense to her actions.  
  
She had agreed to be his, fully. In every way that he decided he wanted. That showed she had an enormous amount of trust in him, and it also showed that he had a great deal of respect and trust for her. In that situation, if someone had a slave, why wouldn’t they be granted access to all of their master’s things? At least to do things like cleaning or unpacking. No, she hadn’t actually done anything wrong he realized. He just hadn’t adjusted to their agreement yet. But now she was thinking about this ‘mistake’ in the context of her being a slave and disappointing him. One thing Michael had been very clear about was that to many subs, disappointing their Dom was one of the worst experiences they could have. He needed to fix this while adding some context to their dynamic.  
  
“Look at me, slut.” Harry decided to use one of the pet names they’d discussed to help her maintain the headspace. Hermione looked up at him quickly and seemed distraught. “You won’t be punished, because the mistake wasn’t yours, it was mine.” Her expression turned to surprise and he pressed forward. “You agreed to wear the collar, of course you would have access to my things. I just haven’t adjusted yet.” Harry gave her a chagrined look. “I just looked at you and reacted the way I might have at school last year. But…” Harry got a thoughtful look. “I can think of something that would prevent _that_.”  
  
Harry walked over to her, grabbed the hem of her dress, and gently started lifting it off her. She squeaked in surprise but quickly lifted her arms up so that Harry could finish removing the dress. He wadded it up and tossed it onto the bed, looking her up and down a few times.  
  
“There,” he said with a smile. “Definitely won’t mistake this for last year now.”  
  
Hermione blushed furiously but couldn’t help her smile at his words. She _wanted_ him to look at her differently and quietly agreed that being half-naked all the time around him would definitely do that.  
  
“Thank you… Master,” she said quietly.  
  
“Let’s go eat, dinner is finished.”  
  
Harry pulled his eyes away from her body and turned to leave. Oh how _desperately_ he wanted to sit her down and become _intimately_ familiar with every curve on her body instead of the casual looks he had gotten so far, but they could still do that after dinner and he didn’t want the food to get cold. That was another thing his lessons with Michael had taught him: when you are in control, you can afford to be patient… and if you are impatient, then you are no longer in control.  
  
“It’s nothing fancy,” Harry said with a shrug as he sat down in front of his plate, “but it should be okay. I’m not great at cooking or anything but I can get by.”  
  
Hermione sat down at the other chair and began eating. There was an… awkward silence in the room, but neither of them could really figure out how to break it at first. After a few bites where the only sound was the scraping of the utensils, Harry finally spoke up.  
  
“Isn’t what you’re wearing uncomfortable?”  
  
“What?” Hermione responded to the unexpected question.  
  
“Well, it looks like it’s squeezing you pretty tightly, and the straps probably aren’t very nice to sit in,” he reasoned.  
  
“Oh, um…” Hermione muttered. “It’s… a bit constricting.”  
  
“You were wearing it for the, er, ceremony right?” Harry paused until he saw Hermione nod. “Would you like to change into something more comfortable?”  
  
“Um…” Hermione wasn’t sure what to say. She took another bite while she thought about her answer. The question picked at several different things that were on her mind, such as did Harry expect her to dress a certain way when they were alone? Or did he have any preferences he wanted her to stay within? It also touched at some of the things she wondered about herself. How much did she want him to look at her? Would she prefer to be mostly naked just to feel his gaze on her body?  
  
Hermione shivered at the memory of the look he gave her during her collaring and swallowed the bite in her mouth.  
  
“I have a few questions… I think,” Hermione said softly. “Maybe we can talk about it after we finish eating?”  
  
“Alright,” Harry said agreeably. “I… well, I probably have a few questions also.”  
  
They went back to their silence, and it was still uncomfortable, but at least neither felt the need to fill that silence any longer. It wasn’t long before their plates were clean, and Hermione dutifully collected their dishes and placed them in the sink.  
  
“Come with me, then,” Harry called as he began walking towards their bedroom. _Their_ bedroom. The thought still felt special and surreal to Hermione. “Let’s sit on the bed… like we did for our first conversation when Michael picked me up.” Harry waited until they were both seated comfortably before starting them off. “Why don’t we begin with your questions,” he suggested.  
  
“Alright,” Hermione agreed, sitting a bit straighter. “Outfits like this certainly make me feel… a particular way, but they are uncomfortable to wear for long periods of time.” She looked uneasy for a moment. “I… Harry — I mean, Master—”  
  
“No,” Harry said. “Just Harry for now.”  
  
“Right…” Hermione said, sounding unsure. “Harry, I understand my own experience of this better now than when you first arrived at my house, but there’s still a lot of things I don’t know.” Harry got a faint smile at hearing her tone slip into the familiar sort of lecturing that he’d learned to expect over the years. She didn’t even seem to realize there was a difference, he mused. “For instance, when you asked me if I wanted to change, I thought to myself, ‘well does Harry have a way he’ll instruct me to dress when we’re alone?’ or ‘does he have boundaries for the kinds of clothes I’m allowed to wear’.”  
  
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Hermione pressed on, looking at her hands with the scrunched up look of concentration she often got while studying.  
  
“Then of course I had to consider that if you left it to me, would I prefer to be mostly naked so that you stared at me more often, or is that something that left to me I’d like to keep in our — I mean, _the_ bedroom.”  
  
She stopped, her explanation apparently finished, and Harry mulled what she’d said for several seconds.  
  
“I think,” Harry started thoughtfully, “that I would very much like to know the answer to that second part.” He looked directly into her eyes, holding her stare. “What we agreed to, what we both wanted—” Harry cut off as he noticed the hitch in Hermione’s breath. “Yes, Hermione, I want this too.” She looked away from him, a look on her face that seemed unhappy. “Hermione… look at me.” She turned back to him, but she had the same expression of wistfulness. “Were you worried that I didn’t actually want this? Want you?”  
  
“Well,” Hermione said speaking rapidly, a sure sign she was nervous, “I did kind of… throw you into it. And I know I’m not that pretty even if you like the way I look, and it’s easy to say that I’m always yours right now, but what about five years on? And this whole thing is something you didn’t even know existed until a week ago. I…” She bit her lower lip. “How do I know that I didn’t convince you of this, trick you into it? How do I know that you really want this? That you want _me_?”  
  
“I thought the little speech I gave when I put that collar on you explained that rather well,” Harry replied a little hotly. “Hermione, please. Listen to me.” He took a deep breath. “I understand why you’d have concerns like that, but… I know that because of how I’ve behaved in school, and through all of our adventures, you might think it would be easy to convince me that I enjoy this when I really don’t, but…” Harry paused, searching for the right words.  
  
“Hermione, I don’t think you really understand just how much I learned from your father, from Michael. And I’m not just talking about being the dominant, I’m talking about how to want things, how to be my own person, how…” He wavered for a moment. “How to really truly feel. How to let myself feel.” Harry’s expression steeled. “I _want_ to be your Dom, Hermione, and I _want you_ as my sub. I _want_ to be your Master, and I _want you_ as my slave.”  
  
“Really?” she asked, tears starting to well in her eyes. “ _Me_?”  
  
“Yes, Hermione, _you_.” He glanced down at her bare chest for a moment before looking back up. “I like looking down and seeing… er… seeing your tits, Hermione.” They both blushed at the statement, though Hermione’s was noticeably stronger. “But it’s not because it’s a girls naked chest, it’s because it’s _your_ naked chest. I love that we can share something that’s so personal and intimate. I’ve never really…” Harry stopped and thought about what he was going to say. Well, it wasn’t like there was a point in hiding himself from someone in this situation.  
  
“I’ve never really felt that kind of closeness or intimacy with someone Hermione, not even something close. And it’s intoxicating, I can barely get enough of it. But even so it’s still not something that I would share with just anyone, or that I would want from just anyone.” He grinned. “It’s special because it’s you.”  
  
Hermione was speechless and unconsciously reached up to run her fingers over the collar. It was becoming something like a security blanket for her already.  
  
“This isn’t about what you wear,” Harry said, only just realizing it himself. “This is about everything, isn’t it? You want to give yourself completely, but you want to know there’s someone else on the other side giving themselves completely also.” Hermione was stunned at this statement. It cut to the very core of what her concerns were in a way that was incredibly insightful, and for a moment Hermione felt more naked than if she’d been wearing nothing at all.  
  
“We’re… we’re still in school, Hermione, we still have a ways to go before we’re ready to set out into forever on our own, you know? But… I don’t want to set out into the world on my own, and I don’t want to set out into it with just anyone along for the ride. I want to set out into it with _you_ , and I _promise_ you that even if we decide later to go our separate ways, while you are giving me yourself, I will give you myself. At least as much as I know how.”  
  
“Thank you… Harry,” Hermione said softly. “I… I didn’t realize how much that was bothering me until you said it.” She looked down. “What were your questions?”  
  
Harry glanced down at her chest again briefly then up to the collar, before making his way back to her face.  
  
“I don’t…” He stopped and thought. “This is going to be terribly awkward no matter how I phrase it,” he muttered, almost to himself. Hermione looked at him curiously. “I was able to get more of my, er… curiosities… about the, um… female body… demonstrated by your mother.” Harry winced as he finished and Hermione looked thoughtful. Her mother had mentioned that Harry used his mouth on her, right? Naturally he would have been able to inspect her closely then. “I’d very much like to, um… explore you, as well. But…” Harry ran a hand through his hair. “Well, I guess my question is… just how many liberties would you _enjoy_ me taking with your body? You know… physically.”  
  
That was… an interesting question Hermione realized. Would she like it if he walked up behind her and simply started having sex without any kind of notice? Well… Hermione was honest enough with herself to admit that she would at least enjoy that a little, so long as it didn’t happen often enough to disrupt the rest of her life. What about if he used her to pleasure himself, but didn’t let her cum? That… would be much more frustrating, but in the right context would also be enjoyable in a different way.  
  
“I think…” Hermione started slowly, “that for me… that is part of submitting. Part of being your slave. Your, um… property.” She smiled at that. “You can take whatever liberties you want. I trust you to still care about how it feels for me and how I feel about it.”  
  
“No,” Harry said, shaking his head. “That isn’t what I asked.” He looked at her seriously. “I’m not the same hesitant person I was last week, Hermione. There are things I’m still inexperienced with and need to find my own rhythm for, but I know that I can _take_ whatever liberties I want.” Hermione felt a tingle run down her body at that statement. It was the very first moment they had been alone together that she had truly seen in him that quality of being really dominant and in control. “What I asked is what you would _enjoy_.”  
  
“Oh,” she said quietly. “Do you mean… would I enjoy it if we… actually had sex?”  
  
“Well… yes, I suppose.”  
  
Hermione looked down at her knees.  
  
“Yes, Harry,” she said in almost a whisper. “I would enjoy that.”  
  
“And what would you like me to do tonight?” Harry asked. “I’m just asking for your opinion, I’ll make up my own mind.”  
  
Hermione thought about this for a little while. The problem was there were so many answers to this question.  
  
“I want…” she took a deep breath and looked at him seriously. “I want you do whatever makes you feel that control.”  
  
Harry looked at her for several seconds as she continued looking at him earnestly, trying to convey the seriousness of her answer, but then Harry’s face cracked and her burst out into full on laughter. Hermione was confused, and felt perhaps a little hurt.  
  
“Sorry,” Harry said, getting his laughter under control. “It’s just… what you said… it made me realize that I already know more about being the dominant that you do.” Hermione’s eyebrows rose.  
  
“What?” she asked. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Hermione,” he said in a tone that might be used to explain something to a child. “I don’t feel in control by doing things to you. I feel in control because I know that you chose to be here.”  
  
“Oh,” Hermione let out. She didn’t know what else to say to that. A part of her, a foolish part she now realized, had thought that no matter what their dynamic was or how long they were doing it, she would always know more about it than Harry would.  
  
“Now,” Harry said, slipping off the bed. “Slut.” Hermione perked up and her pulse quickened. “Go into the kitchen and clean our dishes from dinner. When you are finished come back into the bedroom and we will…” Harry paused. “Experience each other’s bodies.”  
  
Hermione nearly flew out of the room, Harry’s promise of what was to come was all the motivation she needed. Merlin, she wanted this so bad. Harry watched her scramble out of the room with a small chuckle before finally letting out a relieved sigh. That had been an awkward conversation, but he felt like they’d finally talked over the things they needed to before moving on to more physical experiences together.  
  
He shook himself a little, trying to loosen himself up. That had been tiring… he’d learned a lot about being in control, and being dominant, and he’d even gotten some practice. But doing it where _you_ set the tone, where _you_ made the decisions… where it was _your_ mistakes and _your_ ideas… it had been nerve-wracking. The hardest part, Harry realized now, was maintaining the correct persona. Sure, he’d had practice with that, but only in front of Elizabeth, and in that situation if he dropped it there wasn’t any kind of consequence.  
  
_That’s the difference between a classroom and the real world, right?_ He pondered for a moment. _I’ve certainly learned that same thing at Hogwarts. There’s a difference between learning it and practicing it… but I’ve always been able to find my way when I had to._  
  
Looking around the room Harry nodded.  
  
_Well, better set up for when she gets back.  
  
_ ###  
  
Hermione ran over to the sink and turned on the water, anxious to get the dishes done. Even earlier tonight she’d waffled on the idea of having sex, of actually doing it, but now that she knew it was a certainty? Well now she found she wanted it more than anything. She wanted him to bend her to his will, she wanted him to make her moan, and beg, and whimper. And she wanted him to… well… to _fuck_ her, thank you very much.  
  
Gone were her reservations and concerns. He wanted her. He wanted _this_. He wasn’t picking up the mantle of Master just because she wanted him to, he was doing it because _he_ wanted to. Hermione was surprised at what a difference there was between being controlled, and being controlled because someone wanted to control you, wanted to fill that role.  
  
She had felt shy, and exposed, and unsure before, but now she felt need, and desire, and frustration. She was so aroused she was finding it difficult to actually do the dishes.  
  
_How… how will we do it?_ she wondered. Everything was a mess of possibility in her head, and that possibility was only compounding the nervous energy coursing through her. She had to stop several times because her hands were unsteady, but within about ten minutes she was taking jerky steps back towards the bedroom. She felt as if her stomach might turn inside out at any moment, and when her hand finally touched the door handle, she held it and took several breaths.  
  
_This is Harry. This is Master. Everything will be okay._  
  
She needed to open the door. She needed to get in there because she was about to drive herself into that panic that was all too familiar and the only thing that had calmed that part of her was the submission. She needed to turn the knob, push the door—  
  
Hermione jumped backward as the door opened of its own accord and quite suddenly Harry was standing in front of her.  
  
“Were you planning to stand there all evening, slut?” he asked her lightly. Her eyes widened and her face flushed.  
  
“How…”  
  
“Your collar,” Harry answered, pointing to her neck. “I can tell when you’re nearby.”  
  
“Oh,” she said, fidgeting as they stared at each other. Harry raised an eyebrow.  
  
“I’m fairly certain that the order I gave was for you to enter the room after you finished the dishes.”  
  
Hermione jumped slightly, then moved forward quickly. When she entered the room, all she saw was that the bed was cleared of all the things that had been laid on it, and there were several sex toys displayed neatly on the covers. She turned a questioning gaze to Harry.  
  
“These are the gifts your parents sent,” Harry explained, waving his arm over the assorted items. Hermione’s eyes fixed on the plug and she picked it up.  
  
“This…” she turned it over in her hands. “This is the plug my Mistress — I mean, mother — had me wear all last week.”  
  
“Oh really?” Harry asked, his tone one of obvious interest. Hermione’s eyes widened as she set the plug down, only now realizing what she’d just said.  
  
“Um… Yes, Master.”  
  
Harry nodded and seemed to think for a few moments before turning to Hermione.  
  
“Remove all your clothes Slut, and I’ll put it back in for you.”  
  
Hermione nodded and started to remove her corset, knowing that focusing on the command would distract her from her own apprehension. As she undressed, she watched Harry pick up the plug and a bottle that was laid out with the other items. And as she watched him pour some of its liquid on the plug she realized that it was lube. Looking away so that she wouldn’t be too distracted from her task, Hermione set first the corset, and then the garter and leggings to the side, standing back up naked as the day she was born.  
  
She turned to face Harry only to find him staring at her, obviously having watched her finish undressing. Before that could really register for her, Harry spoke.  
  
“What position were you normally in when Elizabeth inserted it?”  
  
“I was…” Hermione stopped, realizing how difficult it might be to describe it. For the first time since she entered the room, she found her anticipation and arousal overpowering her nerves, and started her answer over. “Would you like me to show you Master?”  
  
Harry looked at her for a few moments before slowly nodding. This position would utterly expose her to him. He would have a complete and detailed view of her cunt, ass, and tits, unlike the casual observation that they’d shared up to this point. But she could see the interest, the _desire_ , in her Master’s expression, and it stilled her panic into something more like purpose.  
  
_Just a slut…_ she told herself. _Nothing else. No other expectations. Just a slut._  
  
Hermione went over to the bed, laying down on her back, before pulling her knees back to her shoulders and spreading her thighs apart. Pulling the knees back curled her back, which caused both her cunt and ass to point upward making the view even more… lewd. But Hermione felt a thrill of success as she noticed Harry’s eyes widen ever so slightly. That had been true, unfiltered appreciation for her body, for what he was seeing, and it sent a warm comforting feeling through her body.  
  
She watched Harry step forward until her was right in front of her offered holes. For that’s what this position truly did, it offered all of her openings for her Master to inspect and use. He reached out and touched her leg, and that first touch… it was a feeling like the magic she was so familiar with, but at the same time new and unexplored. Every bump and callous in his fingers sent signals through the fibers of her being, and for several moments Hermione simply lost herself in the feeling of his simple touch against her legs.  
  
After a few moments though, she realized that he was moving her body slightly. Little by little changing how she was positioned. After a few corrections she understood that he was moving her into something that was more… precise. It was the same position, but each part of her was more exactly placed where it should be. After several more adjustments he stepped back and nodded.  
  
“This is position one,” he said. Instantly she felt an odd numbing sensation sweep out from the collar on her neck and flow through her body. Just as quickly as it washed over her, it was gone, but the feeling had startled her and she’d slipped out of his careful positioning slightly.  
  
She felt wrong. Something… she wasn’t how she was supposed to be. Something felt off about how her body was. Confusion consumed her for several seconds. What had just happened?  
  
“Master?” she asked in a squeaky voice.  
  
“Hold on,” he said, reaching forward and helping her back into the correct position. As her little defects were corrected, the feeling of wrongness faded more and more, until finally it disappeared entirely. He stepped back and nodded again. “One of the features of the collar on your neck is to help you learn and maintain specific positions. I can carefully get you into exactly the right position and then tell the collar to store that under a name. In this case position one. Now, any time I instruct you to assume position one, it will give you a gentle feeling to let you know if you’re out of position. The further you are from the correct position, the stronger the feeling will be.”  
  
“That’s incredible!” Hermione gushed, but in her exuberance, she slipped out of position slightly, and the feeling of wrongness returned, if only a little. Responding quickly, she corrected the fault in her body and her eyes widened. “That’s amazing Master. Psychologically this will train my mind extremely quickly.”  
  
Harry let out a small laugh at her enthusiasm. She may be his slave, but she was still Hermione, and Hermione would always find excitement in really excellent pieces of magic.  
  
“Yes it will,” he agreed. “Now, don’t move. I’m going to take the time to properly inspect my… slave.” He grinned at the last word and Hermione felt a familiar heat sweep through her, but this time it wasn’t in her face. It was, in fact, much lower.  
  
Harry leaned forward and brought his face in close. The smell was absolutely intoxicating, and Harry was anxious to see how she tasted as well, but he controlled himself and went about his visual inspection first. Patience, after all, was part of control.  
  
Elizabeth had been right, Hermione’s inner heat was pink, though it was a lighter pink than her mother’s. Harry was intrigued to see that the skin around the area was much more taught than Elizabeth had been. She’d mentioned something about that, hadn’t she? About how different girls had different shapes and sizes for the labia? Hermione’s were rather small, and seemed much tighter. He noticed with some satisfaction that her entire cunt looked wet, meaning that she was most definitely turned on by this.  
  
Harry flicked his eyes up and spotted her clit. It was smaller than her mother’s, but that was also something to be expected. A woman’s clit slowly grew over her entire life, so a younger woman’s would almost always appear smaller than an older woman’s. Harry glanced up at Hermione’s face, realizing that his silence might be a little troubling if it went on too long.  
  
“You’re perfect,” Harry said simply, speaking from the heart.  
  
“Thank you MasterRGH!” Hermione’s response was interrupted as she felt something warm and wet suddenly run along her slit sending a large and unexpected jolt of pure pleasure through her body. It took her a couple of seconds to realize what had happened. Harry had licked her.  
  
“You taste perfect too.”  
  
Perfect. It was what Hermione was always trying to be, and here was her Master telling her that she’d succeeded. Without even really trying. It was a special kind of bliss that statement caused.  
  
“Are you alright?” Harry asked her, jarring her out of her experience.  
  
“What?” she asked confused. “Yes Master.”  
  
Harry nodded and looked down at her other exposed hole. Before she could anticipate it his tongue was on her body again, this time wetting her back entrance. Hermione groaned happily, closing her eyes. His tongue pulled back and a few seconds later she felt the tip of the plug press against her. Knowing what to do, Hermione relaxed the muscles to allow it to enter her easily. But it didn’t. It just sat there, poking her slightly.  
  
Hermione opened her eyes and looked at Harry, but he was watching the plug with an expression of intense concentration. She felt the plug push into her very slowly. Agonizingly slowly. Was he… doing this on purpose? Was he trying to tease her a bit? Harry looked up at her.  
  
“Is that too fast?” he asked her.  
  
“What?” she asked again. _Too fast?_ Her mother had refused to spend more than five seconds start to finish inserting the thing, but she could still barely feel it now. “No Master.”  
  
Harry nodded and continued pushing, moving slightly quicker than before. But it was still an agonizing 45 seconds before she felt the wonderful sensation of her ass swallowing the toy completely up to the neck.  
  
“Does it feel okay?” he asked her, jarring her out of the sensations again.  
  
“Uh… Yes… Master.”  
  
Hermione was starting to get a little frustrated. His compassion and care for her comfort was touching, but she didn’t ask him to have her as just his girlfriend, she asked him to take her as his slave. The constant questions were making it difficult for her to maintain her submissive headspace, and that was reducing her ability to enjoy the experience.  
  
Which, to be honest, she was a little cross about. She had been looking forward to enjoying her first experience with Harry.  
  
_That’s how far out of the headspace it’s taken me,_ she realized. _He’s Harry… not Master._  
  
“You can stop holding position one now,” he said, and she felt the magic recede from her body at his command. Relaxing slightly, Hermione still held herself open for him, hoping that by offering such an open and willing display he might take the hint. Harry stepped back and started to undress, which drew Hermione’s full attention and banished any frustrations she might have been feeling.  
  
As he stepped out of his last piece of clothing, her eyes fixed on the hard, throbbing tool between his legs. She could see it pulse ever so slightly each time his heart beat, and that just drove her to even higher levels of arousal. It showed that, without a doubt, this was a _part_ of Harry, and soon it would be inside her.  
  
“Why don’t we start with, er… your mouth,” Harry suggested. “Does that sound alright?”  
  
Hermione froze for a few seconds, confused about whether or not he was giving an order or asking a question that he wanted an answer to. Deciding to assume it was an order, because that’s what she preferred it was, Hermione climbed down from the bed and knelt in front of him, her face only inches away. She could see more detail now, noting the little bead of clear pre-cum at the tip. Reaching forward she gently wrapped a hand around it and leaned forward to lick the bead off.  
  
The whole thing felt very stiff, but at the same time the texture was very soft. It felt warm and… powerful in her hand, and as soon as she’d touched him she’d heard his breath catch, only to be followed by a strangled moan when she licked the tip. He was slightly smaller than the dildo her mother had used, but Hermione thought it was perfect. Just like he’d thought she was perfect.  
  
Recalling her lessons, Hermione leaned forward and took the cock into her mouth, trying to use all the techniques that she’d been taught. The effect it had on him was quite profound, as he seemed unable to form words or to stop making shockingly sexy noises. Hermione’s enthusiasm grew, and her focus narrowed to nothing except the feeling of his cock in her mouth as she endeavored to elicit as many of those sexy noises as she could. She could feel herself leaking down the side of her leg as she worked her own special kind of magic, and her being fell into that familiar zone of submission and service.  
  
“On the bed,” Harry’s voice croaked from above her, pulling her out of her trance-like state. She gave his cock a final swirl of her tongue as she pulled off and laid back on the bed, opening her legs. Harry was above her in moments, and she could feel him pressing against her. He reached down to line himself up properly and she could feel the tip just enter before stopping. She whimpered in frustration. “I’ll go slow.”  
  
“No,” she murmured. “You don’t have to go slow.”  
  
How could this be happening? He was so confident before, so in control, and now every moment he tried to be tender it only pulled her out of the moment. She hadn’t spent a week shoving dildos in her cunt at a moments notice so that he could go slow!  
  
But Harry didn’t seem to pay her encouragement any mind and pushed himself in inch by agonizing inch. The more of her was filled, the more the frustration melted into ecstasy, and when he finally, _finally_ , sheathed inside her fully, it was the most complete feeling she’d ever experienced. She took several deep breaths before realizing that he wasn’t moving.  
  
“Are you okay?” he asked.  
  
“Yes,” she snapped. “Just… move. In and out.”  
  
Harry complied, and that was the moment that Hermione accepted her first time having sex wouldn’t be the blissful submissive fantasy she’d always painted. There was a short period of feeling loss for a dream she’d held so dearly, but that feeling of loss was silenced when he started to pull out slowly and then push back in.  
  
“Faster…” she grunted.  
  
After a minute or so they had found a good rhythm and Hermione’s frustrations were banished to the dark corners of her mind as pure sensation filled her entire world.  
  
“I’m getting close…” Harry grunted. Hermione groaned.  
  
“Can I play with my clit?” she asked. He was going to finish before her.  
  
“What?” Harry responded, his pattern of thrusts becoming slightly disrupted. “Uh… sure.”  
  
Hermione reached down and started to work herself as quickly as she could, and rapidly she felt her own orgasm approaching.  
  
“I’m gonna cum…” Harry warned her. Hermione redoubled her efforts but was given only one more thrust before Harry buried himself completely. She kept working her clit, hoping to bring herself over the edge, but Harry was already spurting inside her. She stopped, her frustration returning, though there was the consolation of how wonderful it was to feel Harry filling her up with his cum. She could feel the sticky liquid splattering her insides, and each pulse caused Harry’s cock to twitch in the most pleasing of ways. Letting out a somewhat content and somewhat disappointed sigh, Hermione relaxed back onto the bed as he finished.  
  
“Fuck, that was… amazing,” Harry said, pulling himself out.  
  
“Mmm,” Hermione replied non-committally. “Can I play with my clit Harry? I didn’t get to cum.”  
  
“Oh,” Harry said, looking surprised. “Yeah, go for it.”  
  
Hermione reached down and started rubbing herself again, closing her eyes and imagining how filthy and slutty she must look with his cum leaking out of her cunt. It wasn’t long before she felt herself fall over the edge and the familiar wave of pleasure pass through her. She laid there for several seconds breathing heavily. She replayed the last part in her head.  
  
She’d called him _Harry_. Not Master, not Sir, but _Harry_. While they were actually _fucking_. Hermione felt a sadness pass through her as she realized that Harry hadn’t even noticed it. He hadn’t corrected her, he hadn’t slapped her on the face or tits, he hadn’t even verbally noted it. She had to say something or this would eat at her.  
  
“Harry?”  
  
“Yeah Hermione?”  
  
“Umm…” She thought for a second about how to phrase it. “That was very tender and… and sweet. But… I don’t understand why you didn’t treat me like your sub. Like your… slave. Like I was yours.”  
  
“Uh…” Harry’s brows furrowed. “Well, I figured that we have plenty of opportunity for that kind of thing, but there’s only one first time. I wanted it to be special.”  
  
“Harry,” she said in a strained voice. “Being yours is part of what makes it special to me. It… it broke my headspace. And it… I would have preferred being treated like the sub.”  
  
“Even for your first time?” Harry asked dubiously.  
  
“ _Especially_ for my first time!” She closed her eyes in frustration. “I… I told you Harry. This is who I am, this is what I need and want. It’s not a sometimes thing for me.” She dropped her voice into a whisper, asking the question her heart was afraid to hear the answer to. “Is it a sometimes thing for you?”  
  
“No,” Harry answered quickly. “I just… I’ve known you for so long. And… well… actually doing it, actually treating you that way the first time we had sex? It just felt… wrong to me.”  
  
“Okay,” Hermione whispered, almost as much to herself as to him. At this point Harry clearly recognized that something was very much wrong.  
  
“Did you… not enjoy it?”  
  
“I did,” she answered. “It was enjoyable. It just… wasn’t what I imagined.”  
  
Harry deflated a bit and looked around the room helplessly.  
  
“I’m sorry Hermione,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to… do any of that.”  
  
“I know,” Hermione whispered back, curling up slightly. “Can we… get under the covers? And go to sleep? I’d really like to be held right now.”  
  
Several seconds of silence passed before Harry answered.  
  
“Yes,” he said. “Let’s… get some sleep. We can go over it in the morning.”  
  
_In the morning._ That triggered something in Hermione’s mind, and suddenly she thought of a way she might truly help Harry understand how she wanted him to treat her. At least some of the time. At least when they were having sex.  
  
###  
  
Harry woke up slowly, his awareness coming back into reality in bits and pieces. He felt a bit cold. He opened his eyes and realized that he was cold because the covers weren’t on him at all. With a jolt however, he also realized that there was one part of him that wasn’t cold.  
  
His eyes glanced down his body where he saw his cock, hard in the morning as it often was, halfway inside Hermione’s mouth. She wasn’t doing that _amazing_ thing she did last night, she was just holding it there, keeping it wet and warm, and Harry laid back on the pillow for a few more seconds basking in the comfortable feeling. That comfortable feeling rapidly disappeared though once he was more fully awake, and he realized why he was already hard. He needed to get to the restroom.  
  
“Hermione,” he groaned. “You need to let me go so I can get to the toilet.” He watched as she slowly shook her head with his cock in her mouth, as if to say no. He furrowed his brows. “No, Hermione, I _really_ need to use the restroom.”  
  
He stared dumbfounded as his proclamation didn’t have the effect he expected and Hermione simply shook her head again. Her hot, wet mouth was making it difficult for him to hold it. What was she thinking?  
  
“Hermione!” he gasped. “If you don’t get off I’m going to end up peeing in your mouth!”  
  
At this point Harry wasn’t sure exactly how he expected her to respond, but it certainly wasn’t with a _nod_. He felt himself losing control over his bladder, but he fought it as much as he could. Frantically, he reached down to pry Hermione off of him, but her hands shot up and knocked his away. It was too late, there was no time.  
  
_I’m sorry, Hermione._  
  
He felt himself begin to release, and once it started he knew there was no chance of stopping it. To his utter amazement and confusion however, he saw Hermione begin to gulp. Was she… was she swallowing his pee? Harry couldn’t do anything but stare in fascination as his bladder emptied little by little into the girl’s mouth. He couldn’t help but be a little impressed in spite of the confusion and disgust he felt at how not a single drop escaped her.  
  
Finally he felt himself finish, and with a final gulp, Hermione began to pull off his cock, giving the tip a final lick to clean up any excess. Harry stared at her as she lost that look of determination and instead wore one of shame.  
  
“I’m sorry I didn’t obey, Master,” Hermione said softly, now looking down. “I wanted to show you…” She glanced up at him before looking back at the bed. “Last night you said that when it came time to actually treat me the way I wanted to be treated during sex it felt… wrong. That you had trouble with it.” She paused and shifted. “I wanted to show you what it really means to me, being your slave.” She looked up at him again. “I’ll do that every morning, if you want. You don’t have to get out of bed to use the bathroom again if you don’t want to.” Her gaze returned to the sheets. “I know you wanted to make me feel… special last night. But for me, Master, this is what makes me feel special. Being used by you. Being _yours_ to use. I agreed to be your slave, and I didn’t do that lightly so…” She locked eyes with him. “Please… _use_ me like one.”  
  
Harry took in her explanation. Michael had covered many things about dominants and submissives, and some of the things she’d said were in fact things he had talked about. But Harry realized now that he hadn’t quite been prepared for the reality of turning those discussions into practice, and for the first time Harry began to truly appreciate what Michael and Elizabeth had tried to do for them, had tried to accomplish.  
  
He hadn’t really understood what it meant to do this until now. He had discussed it and learned about it, but he hadn’t internalized it in the way that only direct experience can really do, and last night that had made a great deal of difference. The significance of the collar he had given her, and the words they had exchanged, took on new meaning to Harry now as he began to understand the depths with which Hermione felt the things she did. It was still, as Michael had put it, a game that they were playing, but Hermione wanted to actually play that game. Not to pretend, but to actually do it. That was what she wanted to choose.  
  
Harry started to realize that he should probably apologize for a couple of things last night, in that context. He hadn’t helped maintain headspace like Michael had taught him, and he remembered what breaking the headspace had done for Elizabeth who had decades of experience. His heart clenched as he realized just how disappointing that experience must have been for Hermione. Not because he was inadequate as a lover or partner, but because he hadn’t followed through on the commitment he had made to her.  
  
But a plan began to form in Harry’s mind. Now that he actually understood all of this, truly understood it and internalized it, he realized that this wasn’t something he would do halfway. If this is what they would be doing, then they would do completely or not at all.  
  
“I understand, Slut,” Harry said, taking care to use a name appropriate for the headspace she must be in after performing that action. “Truly understand now. I apologize for how things went last night, and I have a special way in mind to make it up to you.” Harry rolled off the bed and stood. “Get dressed, Slut. Something appropriate for going out in public. We need to go purchase something.”  
  
###  
  
Hermione followed Harry down the early-morning streets of Diagon Alley silently, curious as to where they were going and wondering whether or not she had gambled correctly. Doing that to Harry was something that she knew would shock him enough to break through all the things that were in the way and make him actually understand what the collar had meant to her personally, but now she was still waiting to see how exactly he would respond. He had apologized and seemed to fully realize what she meant now, but all the same nothing had happened yet.  
  
“We’re going down Knockturn, Slut,” Harry muttered. Her face bloomed as she glanced around to see if anyone was close enough to hear him, but they were relatively alone this early. She followed until they reach a rather nondescript building and continue through the doors with him. “Wait here,” he ordered firmly, pointing at a spot near the door. She felt that thrill she had been seeking last night pass through her and nodded, going to stand and wait.  
  
Harry went over to the counter and asked for something that the shopkeeper seemed reluctant to sell him, but in the end the gruff looking man took the money and handed something over to Harry. He ended up taking considerably more than it was worth, if she judged their body language correctly. Harry turned and headed back towards the door.  
  
“Follow, we’re going home,” Harry said as he passed. Hermione scampered after him, making sure to stay close, and owing to their early start it was only a few minutes before they were back inside the flat they were staying in for the rest of the week. Harry set the box down on the dining room table and sighed before turning to her. “Remove your clothes.”  
  
Hermione hesitated. Here? In the dining room? Harry frowned and stepped forward. Hermione’s eyes widened as she saw him reach for her chest and even though he hadn’t been there, even though it had always been her mother, Hermione knew what was coming. Harry’s fingers clasped around her nipple and squeezed giving it a sharp twist.  
  
“Hesitation will be punished,” they said in unison. Harry lifted his eyebrows in surprise, but she was already working at stripping the clothes off her body; within a minute she was standing in front of him completely naked.  
  
“What you want is something I can’t give if it’s temporary,” Harry finally spoke. “I don’t know if I could stand to share something so insanely intimate with a person only for them to leave me later.” He held up his hand to forestall any protests. “So, if this is what you want, we will do this. But we will _not_ do it halfway.” Harry indicated the box. “That is a magical tattoo kit. I saw it while browsing the alley with Michael while we were there last week. If we move forward, then I am going to use it to tattoo the words ‘This Slave is the Property of Harry Potter’ right above your cunt.” Hermione’s breath almost stopped at this information.  
  
“It doesn’t take any special skill to use the kit,” Harry informed her. “It simply transfers any design you provide it with as a tattoo. Now before you ask, yes it is possible to remove magical tattoos, but it takes nearly a month’s worth of potions to do so. If you are uncomfortable with doing this, that’s fine, but like I said… I won’t do this halfway.”  
  
Harry fell silent and observed Hermione. She looked… well it was difficult to guess at what she was thinking, but she didn’t look angry so that was good start. He watched her think, and debate, and reason for several minutes. As the time passed he started to wonder if maybe he had once again misjudged things and gone too far, but before he could ask such a question, Hermione spoke.  
  
“I think…” she started slowly, “that it would mean more if… if the tattoo that forever marked me as your slave was in my own handwriting.”  
  
Harry gawked at her for several seconds, once again surprised by the temerity of the wonderful girl in front of him.  
  
“Good girl,” he said softly, noticing how she immediately looked more comfortable and happy. “Open the kit and create the design, then I will apply it.”  
  
Hermione didn’t waver or hesitate, she just opened the box and began completing her task. Within minutes she presented him with a design, in her own hand, labeling her his. Harry nodded and pointed at the table.  
  
“Up here, in position one.”  
  
Hermione’s body jerked and she moved rapidly to get into position, the magic of the collar clearly providing some motivation. When she was finally laying there Harry took the design, as well as the rest of the kit and began to apply it. It didn’t take long, the kit nearly applied itself, and when he pulled away the words were attached to her skin in a shimmering, color shifting ink.  
  
Harry stared at it and marveled for several seconds.  
  
“Master?” Hermione said.  
  
“Yes slave?”  
  
“I said it for the collar, but I want to say it again:” She gave him a look of the deepest feeling Harry had ever seen. “I’m yours.”  
  
###

 **Author’s Note:** What? Don't tell me that you expect the first time of two teenagers less than 16 years old, who are _also_ throwing the complication of BDSM on top of everything to have a mind-blowing first time.

The watersports scene in this chapter is the reason that watersports was included before. It was to set up this shift, so I hope that it worked even if it's not your thing.  
  
And hey, maybe next chapter they get to have some actual _fun_ together.  
  
If you’re interested, you’re welcome to join me on my Discord server:  
  
<https://discord.gg/TQ25x5u>


	11. Love Is In Bloom

Chapter 11  
Love Is In Bloom  
  
###  
  
 **Author’s Note:** I’ve been gone for quite a while, and for that I apologize. But as promised, this story won’t be abandoned. If you’d like more information about my new update schedule, what I’m doing now, and how to keep up to date on my stories, please read the author’s note at the end of the chapter.  
  
###  
  
Hermione felt a tingle again just above her slit, and her hand moved to rest there gently. It was a phantom sensation, as the magical tattoo hadn’t actually caused any kind of pain or discomfort, but it seemed her mind was on the marking even when she wasn’t thinking about it. It had only been a few hours, and Harry had set her the task of cleaning the apartment and creating a list of anything else the dwelling needed. Considering that this was originally envisioned as a sort of magical safe-house for her parents, Hermione was intent to be thorough in her list.  
  
While she was doing this Harry had sat down at the desk in their bedroom and begun working on something. She supposed it might be his summer homework, but she doubted that possibility. While Harry wasn’t a poor student, he’d never really been studious in the way that she had, and he seemed far more focused than he was usually able to stay with school work.  
  
In any case, Hermione felt her lips fall into a soft smile as she ran her fingers over the place where her tattoo was. It made her happy. She looked down at it as she approached the bedroom door, watching the ink shift colors. She’d elected to remain naked after it had been applied. Well, Harry hadn’t given her instructions to put clothes on, so she’d decided that meant _he_ wanted her naked.  
  
She looked up and took a breath before knocking on the door.  
  
“Master?” she called out, hesitant like she was testing the word. She’d called him that before, but it felt different to use it now that their standing with each other was so clearly defined.  
  
“Come in,” Harry’s muffled voice answered from the other side of the door.  
  
Hermione opened the door and saw him hunched over the desk writing on a piece of parchment. She froze for a second. Should she interrupt him? He did tell her to come in. Should she wait to speak? Should she walk over and wait next to him? Perhaps that would make him feel rushed. Her thoughts froze as Harry turned and glanced at her standing the doorway. His eyes moved over her body, a kind of surprise and reverence in them, and Hermione remembered that she was naked.  
  
 _He can look,_ Hermione thought to herself, pulling up her resolve. _My… body belongs to him now anyway._ It was what she wanted, but that didn’t mean she was quite used to it.  
  
“Come over here,” Harry finally said. He motioned to another empty chair that was next to the desk. “There’s an extra chair.”  
  
Hermione watched him for a few moments as he turned back to the parchment and resumed his concentration. Seeing him so focused, and so… well, he was writing something, studying something, that was clear. And even though Hermione knew it was rather silly, a part of her couldn’t help but be turned on at the idea that he was doing something like that. It wasn’t actually that she found studying sexy, although she was sure many of the people at school might jump to that conclusion. It was that she wanted a partner who was smart. One who could challenge her mentally as much as they could physically, and this was exactly the sort of thing she imagined such a person would be doing.  
  
“Pet!” Harry called out sharply without looking up, causing Hermione to jump slightly. “Sit.”  
  
If the sight of him studying had been arousing, that had nearly made her legs buckle, but she still made it over to the chair and sat in it promptly, the cool, rough surface somewhat uncomfortable on her bare cheeks. At the same time though, the discomfort felt… comforting. Not in its physical sensation, but in that it felt like she was _being_ controlled, and _being_ reminded of her place, and _being_ owned.  
  
The scratch of the quill against the parchment was the only sound for several seconds, and Harry continued looking at his work. Hermione might be able to see what he was writing if she leaned forward in her chair, but somehow that felt like it would be wrong.  
  
“What was it that you wanted?” Harry asked, breaking her from her thoughts.  
  
“Oh, uh…” Hermione flustered for a second. “I’m finished.” A beat passed. “With the task you gave me, I mean.” Another beat. “Master.”  
  
Hermione felt her face light up. That had been an embarrassingly awkward delivery. Harry paused his writing and looked up at her with a grin.  
  
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you stumble over your words that much,” Harry said with a chuckle. “Are you nervous?”  
  
“No!” she responded immediately. “Well… maybe a little.”  
  
“That’s alright,” Harry told her, his face softening into something much more understanding. “This is all still new, and we had that whole… misunderstanding the first night. Today has been an emotional day, and we both sort of need to figure out what our new natural place with each other is. I understand.” Harry pointed towards the parchment. “That’s actually what I’ve been working on. If I understand our, er, arrangement correctly now, what you _need_ is some structure and some rules. For us, I mean. Some rules on _how_ to be my perfect little slave.”  
  
Hermione felt the most delicious chill travel up her spine.  
  
“Yes… Master,” she nearly whispered.  
  
“Excellent,” Harry nodded. “Well, I have a general idea of what I want on that front now, but I learned a lot of things from Michael over the last week. One of them is that I can’t really be what you want if I don’t understand what drives you, what motivates you. So I would like you to tell me a few things, and then we will discuss the rules I propose. I’ll want your honest feedback on them, how they actually make you feel.”  
  
“Master?” Hermione ventured, getting more comfortable now using the title with him. “You know you don’t have to… propose them. You can just decide them.”  
  
“I know,” Harry answered. “I think, after your little display this morning I quite fully understand that.” Harry grinned at her. “I want to go over the rules to give you the chance to decide it isn’t for you, but if you say nothing, we’ll go forward with the rules I picked. More important, though, is that you know what the rules are. If you don’t know the rules, you can’t follow them.”  
  
Hermione looked at him for several moments, not really having any way to refute that logic.  
  
“What did you want me to tell you, Master?” she asked.  
  
“I wanted to hear how you discovered this part of yourself. You mentioned something about past fantasies, or having thought about it for a long time, but I don’t know much about the history behind all of this for you.” Harry gave her a serious look. “Clearly your parents have been practicing this kind of lifestyle for quite a while. Did they introduce you to it originally?”  
  
Hermione grimaced at the question and the memory it brought up.  
  
“Not… exactly.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “I accidentally walked in on my parents when I was 10, and they were… engaged in some activities. I think my father was using a flogger of some kind. I ran out of room terrified that he was beating my mother, and furious at them.” Hermione let out a short giggle. “It was very awkward. My mother explained that it was something they both wanted to do, that it was an adult thing, but… you know me. I can’t let myself go without understanding something so foreign.”  
  
“Yeah, that’s true,” Harry agreed, nodding.  
  
“Well, she gave me some books that explained the basics of what BDSM is, and it was one of the most awkward conversations I’ve ever suffered through.”  
  
“Did they… uh… demonstrate any of it for you afterward?” Harry asked.  
  
“No,” Hermione replied, shaking her head. “They very much kept me away from their private lives together.”  
  
“Then… how?”  
  
“Well, I wasn’t terribly interested in it at that time,” Hermione explained. “I understood that they weren’t doing anything wrong, but it wasn’t something that interested me. I mean… I was 10.” Hermione’s eyes dropped to her hands for a few moments. “That changed when you and Ron saved me from the troll.”  
  
“What?” Harry said, perplexed. “How does that fit in?”  
  
“I was terrified after you two rescued me. You see, with how backward parts of the magical world are, I thought that perhaps saving my life at the risk of your own had made me your magical slave or something. As if I owed you a debt for my life, and magic would force me to pay it back.”  
  
Harry’s eyes widened and several seconds passed before he spoke up.  
  
“It… it doesn’t, right?”  
  
“No,” Hermione said with a shake of her head. “There used to be an old custom of ‘life debts’ in the magical world for such situations, but it was just a social custom, and it was usually resolved with gold, not… slavery.”  
  
“Well that’s good,” Harry said, breathing a sigh of relief. He was happy with the arrangement that they’d found, but one of the things he was happy with was that they both chose it. “I still don’t understand then how it relates to any of this.”  
  
“Well…” Hermione looked down at her hands again and her face started to turn red. “After I knew I wasn’t in danger, I started to… fantasize about what it would be like. If you… owned me, and made me… do things.”  
  
“Oh,” Harry said, his eyebrows quirking. “A bit young, weren’t we?”  
  
“It was just a fantasy!” Hermione said with a furious blush. “Besides, that’s around the age that most people start to explore their own bodies.”  
  
“I suppose,” Harry allowed, a hesitant nod.  
  
“In any case, I realized that the situations I was fantasizing about were similar in idea to some of the things I’d read about in the books my mother had given me, so during the winter holidays I read them again, and it… started to fill up my imagination.”  
  
Harry nodded, considering what she was telling him. He didn’t think about it often, but Hermione was almost a full year older than him, and this was one place where it was definitely showing. That sort of thing would never have entered his mind in first year, regardless of the circumstances.  
  
“So you decided in first year that you wanted… this?” Harry asked, his hand gesturing towards the parchment he’d been writing on.  
  
“No, it was still just fantasies. I was putting myself under a huge amount of stress—”  
  
“You don’t say,” Harry interrupted sarcastically. Hermione just looked sheepish for a moment before continuing.  
  
“I, er, asked my parents that summer if they would show me what it was like.”  
  
“This has been going on for two years?” Harry asked in a surprised tone.  
  
“No, they refused,” Hermione told him. “Which was the right decision at the time, I suppose. I just wanted something to help deal with all the stress, and this seemed to fit the bill, but that isn’t really a healthy reason to get into it on its own. And then there’s the whole, I’m their daughter aspect. They were more than a little put off by that. But I got them to agree to at least help me find someone that _could_ be my Dom after fourth year, if I was still interested then.” Hermione paused for a second, organizing her thoughts. “I wasn’t looking for a Master at that point, just someone to be in control at times. They promised they would help me find the right person, presumably someone my own age, if I still felt the same way going into fifth year, since fifth year would be a huge step up in stress, what with the O.W.L.’s and all.”  
  
“But we just completed third year, not fourth,” Harry pointed out. “And you most certainly wanted a Master now… what changed?”  
  
“I got petrified,” Hermione provided. “In second year I was petrified for several weeks, and it was the most terrifying, confining thing. I could still hear, and see, and think. It was like… you read the books I gave you right?” Hermione watched Harry nod in response. “It was like the ultimate confinement bondage, only I wasn’t allowed any breaks, and I didn’t know it was coming.”  
  
“That sounds awful,” Harry commented. “I would think that would turn you off to the whole idea, not turn it into this.”  
  
“It might have,” Hermione replied softly. “If you hadn’t come and talked to me.” They were both silent for a few seconds. “When I was petrified, every time you came to talk to me it made me feel safe, and it made the experience bearable.”  
  
“Wait,” Harry said, frowning. “You were traumatized into wanting me?”  
  
“No!” Hermione declared immediately, looking repulsed by the suggestion. “Other people came to talk to me as well, Harry. I didn’t end up wanting Ron, or Madam Pomphrey. Your voice made me feel better because of how I already felt about you.” She looked down, some of her emphasis leaving her. “Even then.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Harry said uncomfortably.  
  
“For what?” Hermione asked, confused.  
  
“For not noticing,” he replied. “I’m sorry you were trying to deal with that stress all on your own. Even without the BDSM aspect, I imagine that I could have done more to help.”  
  
“It’s not your fault, Master,” Hermione insisted. “My brain… it goes in circles when I’m stressed. It starts to look at every side of everything that could be related to something that bothers me and follows every single tangent down every little path until I’m a total mess. That’s one of the things that I like so much about this, and about having you as my Master. You…” Hermione bit her lip, “You can turn my brain off, just let me relax.”  
  
“Really?” Harry asked, a bit surprised. “You, Hermione Granger, enjoy not thinking?”  
  
“Yes, you prat!” she responded hotly. As soon as the words left her mouth her eyes widened and she looked down at her bare legs. “I’m sorry Master, I didn’t mean to disrespect you.”  
  
“That’s okay,” Harry said with a chuckle. “I think life would get boring if you never told me when I was being a prat again.” Harry leaned in next to her ear as she continued looking down stiffly and whispered. “You might just have to do it with my cock in your mouth sometimes.”  
  
Hermione shivered at the words and squirmed a bit in her seat, feeling herself getting wet at just the suggestion.  
  
“I think that was what I needed to finish the rules,” Harry said. He made a few more marks on the paper before looking up at his… well, his willing slave. “Slut,” he said briskly, causing her to jump in her seat. “Look at me.” She looked up into his eyes and for a moment he saw such depth in them. Hunger, and desire, and comfort, and even fear. “Go sit in front of the mirror near the door with your legs spread and stare at your tattoo while I finish this.”  
  
“Yes, Master,” Hermione replied immediately, standing up and moving as he’d instructed.  
  
At first, she felt somewhat ridiculous sitting there with her cunt bared to the mirror, staring at the shimmering words in the mirror. But as time passed, she began to feel almost hypnotized by the shimmering, color changing text, and felt her mind falling deeper and deeper into her own sub space. She was property. She was to be used. She was a slave.  
  
As moments turned to minutes the ruminations moved beyond little phrases and words in her mind and into ideas that couldn’t be easily described.  
  
“Slut!”   
  
_That’s Master’s voice. You need to respond._  
  
“Yes, Master,” she said, not moving her body or eyes from their place.  
  
“That’s the third time I called to you,” she heard him say.  
  
“I’m sorry, Master, my brain was off.”  
  
There were a few moments of silence, then a bit of rustling from the other side of the room.  
  
“Come over here and sit down,” Harry instructed.  
  
She pulled her legs in and attempted to stand but didn’t realize just how sore her muscles had gotten holding that position and fell backward, saved only by the bed a few feet away. Giving each leg a quick stretch, she jumped back to her feet, this time successfully, and moved to sit in the chair next to him.  
  
“Your brain was off?” Harry asked her questioningly. Hermione looked at him, confused for a second before nodding.  
  
“I… didn’t need it,” she offered, still not completely out of her trance but trying her best to make sense for him.  
  
“You really do get off from the humiliation,” Harry muttered, though it didn’t appear he was really saying it to her. “I apologize, as I know coming in and out of that headspace is… jarring at best, but I need you to take several breaths and come back to me as Hermione. Do you understand?”  
  
“Yes, Master,” she said with a frown. She started to look around the room, taking deep breaths as she did, and picked out things that made her think of school. The books they used; her uniform which was hanging in the closet. The feeling of coming out, slowly, from her deep submissive headspace was decidedly unpleasant. It had been so _comfortable_ there, and she didn’t understand why she had to leave. Hermione let out a sigh. “What did you need, Master?”  
  
“First, I’d like to know what happened there,” Harry said. “You seemed… far away almost.”  
  
“I was, I suppose,” she agreed, still feeling a slight loss. “You had me go sit in front of the mirror, and the position was so… lewd. Just sitting there, displaying myself to the mirror. And because of your instructions, I was staring at how… degrading and lewd it was. I just kept reading the words on the tattoo over and over, and… I’m not really sure.” Hermione sighed again. “Maybe it was the way the colors were shifting, but all of it together my mind started to… narrow I guess? It’s like the rest of the world became further away, and more and more of my mind was occupied with what I was reading. That I was your slave. That I was your property.”  
  
She paused, and when Harry didn’t respond she continued her explanation.  
  
“It was a strange feeling. I’ve felt very submissive before because of how aroused I was, or how degraded I felt, but this was more like… more like my mind switched into a different mode where other types of thoughts didn’t happen at all. It was like meditating, or being hypnotized, only I was meditating on being your property.”  
  
“Hmm…” Harry watched her face with a small amount of concern. “Was it unpleasant? Or scary at all?”  
  
“No,” Hermione answered slowly. “I wouldn’t say it was either of those things. It was… comfortable. Simple. I felt… more submissive than I’ve ever been before, but not at all aroused. It felt less like something exciting, and more like my simple purpose.” She frowned. “It’s actually strange thinking back at it. I _wasn’t_ thinking much at the time, because with your instructions I didn’t have much to think about.”  
  
“Sorry,” Harry told her with a frown.  
  
“No Master,” she replied, “it’s not… it’s difficult to explain, but that wasn’t a complaint, just something I’ve never experienced before.” She paused and thought for a few seconds. “I think if I were allowed to come out of it slower, it would actually be a thoroughly relaxing experience, it was just, as you said, jarring to come out of it so quickly.”  
  
“It’s something you want to experience again then?”  
  
Hermione thought on that. She couldn’t possibly be productive in that mindset, but perhaps at a time where she wasn’t supposed to be productive but couldn’t seem to calm down, it would be just what she needed.  
  
“Yes, I think so, Master.”  
  
“What sort of situations do you think that kind of headspace would help with?” Harry asked her. She frowned a bit and he spoke again. “I really do need your input on this, as I have no experience with that kind of headspace myself, so to make good decisions I need honest information.”  
  
“When you want to truly use me as a slave,” Hermione told him. “As…” She paused, the words sort of getting stuck in her throat for a second because of how foreign they were. “As a body that you own. When you want to command me in a way where I… don’t even think about your instructions, just do them.”  
  
“I see,” Harry said, considering her words. “And what sort of things would that help you with?”  
  
Hermione thought about this for a moment, considering again the situation she had a few moments before.  
  
“When I can’t calm myself down… but there’s nothing that I can do about what’s worrying me.”  
  
Harry nodded then looked down at the parchment in his hands and cleared his throat. He looked up and frowned as he noticed how blank Hermione’s face still looked. Setting the parchment aside, he held out his arms.  
  
“Come here, Hermione.”  
  
She looked at him quizzically, not really sure what he wanted, but got off the chair and stepped into his arms. He pulled her into his lap firmly and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. Her face was locked in a look of surprise for a few moments before a warm, content smile spread across her features and she pulled her legs up, cuddling into his lap.  
  
“I care about you,” Harry whispered into her hair. “You know that right?”  
  
Hermione opened her mouth to reply but no words seemed to come out.  
  
“I’m not just doing this because I’m a bloke and every young guy dreams of having a looker of a girl get naked whenever they want,” he continued with a soft chuckle. “This means more to me than _just_ the rules. Or _just_ the… sex.” Hermione’s breathing was becoming slightly ragged and she realized that she was starting to cry silently. “I’ve never had someone that I can… feel this way about. Not family, or a close friend… nothing in my life has really been good without exception other than you and Ron. He’s like the brother I never had, and you… are something special to me.”  
  
Hermione couldn’t hold it back any more and started to openly sob into his chest.  
  
“I don’t want you to think that I’ve dived into this reluctantly, or that I’m just going through the motions with you, Hermione.”  
  
Hermione let out a few more sobs as Harry gently rubbed his hands across her body, holding her close. After a few moments she sniffed and pulled herself tighter against him.  
  
“Thank you, Harry,” she said, her words muffled into his body. “I… a part of me never really expected… to hear that kind of thing from anyone.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Harry asked.  
  
“I…” She sniffed. “I know it’s silly, but since I’ve never really had any true friends, a part of me felt like… I would never find someone that cared. Not like that.”  
  
“You didn’t,” Harry said softly. She pulled back and looked up at him confused, and a smile crossed his face. “I found _you_ , remember? In the girl’s bathroom.”  
  
“Yes,” she said, a faint smile on her face as well, “I suppose you did.”  
  
Harry froze for a moment, as if he were considering something, then leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. It wasn’t the first time they had kissed, but it certainly felt different. It felt like their bodies were much more connected to each other now than they had been the other night while they were having sex, even though the contact was far more chaste, and unlike the out-of-place tenderness that Harry had been exhibiting then, this felt raw, and honest, and correct. They held each other close as they kissed, the soft contact of their lips giving way to a more forceful and needy energy. But inexperience won out in the end, and after only a few more seconds they pulled away, gasping for air.  
  
“Well…” Harry said, breathing heavily, “How about we go over those rules?”  
  
Hermione smiled widely and buried her face back into his chest.  
  
“Yes, Master, that sounds wonderful.”  
  
Harry chuckled and patted her on the head before grabbing the parchment.  
  
“Alright, so… first rule,” he started. “If you need anything, or anything is bothering you, you must tell me, so I can decide how to address it.”  
  
“Yes, Master,” Hermione replied, smiling, her voice muffled still.  
  
“Second rule: you can’t tell anyone about this without my permission.”  
  
There was a pause this time before the answer came.  
  
“Yes, Master.”  
  
“Did you have something to say about that one?” Harry asked her.  
  
“I guess,” Hermione said slowly, “I just don’t understand the point of it. It’s not as if I was going to start telling everyone that I’m your slave.”  
  
“I know,” Harry replied, “but… Hermione, you know how quickly rumors travel at Hogwarts, the true ones and the false ones. And you know how much people like talking about me. I just… don’t need that complicating things. So that means _no one_ without my permission. Not Ginny, not Lavender… no one. None of it.”  
  
“Yes, Master,” she replied, this time more confidently, “But what about the tattoo, won’t that sort of give it away?”  
  
“Only if you wanted it to,” Harry told her. “The kit came with instructions, and one of the features is that the whole tattoo can be made the same color as your skin with a simple spell, effectively making it invisible.”  
  
“Oh,” Hermione let out in surprise, pulling back so that she could look at him. “That’s… really useful.”  
  
“You didn’t think I’d mark you with something like that if you couldn’t ever hide it, even when it was really inconvenient, did you?” Harry asked, more confused than anything. “I thought for sure you’d have read the booklet that came with the kit. I mean… you’re Hermione.”  
  
She looked at him a bit sheepish.  
  
“Yes, well.” She felt a blush form on her cheeks. “Being… _this_ ,” she motioned to her naked body, “is what helps me curb the more, ah, obsessive impulses I have.”  
  
“I see,” Harry said, blinking owlishly a few times before turning back to his parchment. “Umm… Third rule: you can’t masturbate without my permission.”  
  
“But—” Hermione stopped herself mid-protest, realizing the role she wanted to have didn’t really allow for that kind of arguing. “Erm, what’s the purpose of that rule, Master?” she asked carefully.  
  
For his part, Harry simply looked amused.  
  
“You have impressed on me several times that you want to be _owned_. To be _used_. But Michael made a point last week that stuck with me. If I _own_ you… if you are my _property_ … then _this_ —” Harry reached down and pressed against her clit gently, causing her to gasp “—belongs to me, and you need to ask before, ah, ‘using’ my property.”  
  
That explanation did something strange to Hermione inside. She felt at once affronted for the first time at the prospect of belonging to him, while also feeling terribly turned on and happy that he was actually following through on what she wanted. A part of her knew that she wanted everything this entailed, it was just… difficult to imagine not being able to relieve herself of being pent up whenever she wanted.  
  
The previous week with her mother had used a rule much like this one, but that had been for the week, not… forever. Hermione hadn’t found any issue with the rule when there was some future stopping point, even if it wasn’t well defined, but the gravity of knowing that would be her life from now on was much greater.  
  
It also felt… easier to accept that from her parents, whom she had always respected as authority figures. At the same time… she knew that it would be difficult to view Harry as something _other_ than an authority figure with a rule like this in place.  
  
But that was rather the point. She wanted to feel controlled, and this certainly did that.  
  
“Yes, Master,” she mumbled.  
  
“Don’t worry,” Harry told her with a chuckle. “I’m not likely to say ‘no’ often.” He gave her a wink. “Though I might want to watch.”  
  
Hermione blushed again furiously.  
  
“As you wish, Master,” she said, though this time her voice was tinged with a hint of excitement.  
  
“Good girl,” he said, causing a warm feeling to spread through her. “Fourth rule,” he continued, looking back at the parchment. “You’re not allowed to orgasm without my permission.”  
  
Hermione looked at him confused.  
  
“Isn’t that pretty much the same as rule three?” she asked.  
  
“Not really,” Harry replied. “Think about it. I could give you permission to masturbate, but not let you cum.” Hermione’s eyes widened, which made Harry smile mischievously. “And the fourth rule doesn’t say you need permission to ‘orgasm while masturbating’, it says you need permission to orgasm _period_.”  
  
“You mean…” Hermione started, beginning to grasp the importance of the rule, “even during sex? Or when you’re… playing with me yourself?”  
  
“That’s right,” Harry told her. She was sure that if his arms weren’t wrapped around her, he’d be rubbing his hands together. He looked back at the parchment, moving on to the next new facet of her life. “Fifth rule: you need my permission to wear any clothes, besides what’s necessary for health or other reasons.” He looked up from the parchment and elaborated. “Basically, you don’t need permission to wear something warm if you need to go outside when it’s freezing cold, but wearing that type of clothing without permission is limited to when it is needed. So if you came back inside from the cold, you’d need to immediately remove them.” Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Harry quickly continued. “You also don’t need my permission to wear your uniform at school, seeing as that’s part of the rules for the school. I also am not particularly keen on other people seeing my slut in all her glory.” Hermione’s mouth snapped shut and her face reddened. “But… you do need permission to wear anything other than the exact school uniform.”  
  
“But…” Hermione gaped for a few seconds. “The uniform is only the cloak and a hat.”  
  
“Correct,” Harry agreed with barely concealed glee. “Though I think shoes would fall under the necessity aspect as well.”  
  
“How will I get permission every day at school though?” she asked. Her face went pale as a new thought occurred to her. “What about on the weekends?”  
  
“If you want to wear something under your uniform, or on the weekend, I’d suggest you ask permission the night before,” Harry offered in a reasonable voice.  
  
“I…” Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times, “Yes, Master.” Harry looked down and was about to move on, when another thought occurred to her. “What about over the summer? We don’t have a way to communicate fast enough during the summer.”  
  
“Hermione,” Harry admonished. “I know you’re more intelligent than this. I already explained you could ask ahead of time, didn’t I? Unless of course we figure out a reliable way to communicate instantly. I’d suggest the phone, but the Dursleys would go spare if I were making regular phone calls.”  
  
Hermione looked pensive for a moment, before becoming determined.  
  
“I’ll find something,” she said simply.  
  
“I don’t doubt it,” Harry replied, his confidence in her success clear in his voice. “But until then, I’d suggest you think ahead.” He looked once more at the parchment. “Sixth rule…” Harry paused at this before looking up at her squarely. “For every three hours studying, you will have one hour being only a slave.”  
  
“But— that’s not— how can I—” Hermione stammered. “Does that include classes?”  
  
“Oh,” Harry let out, glancing at the paper, “Erm, no, I meant actual studying on your own.”  
  
“Yes, Master,” Hermione said, a frown forming on her face. “What do you mean ‘being only a slave’ though? I thought… well, I thought I was always your slave. That you could interrupt me at any time.”  
  
“I mean that after three hours of studying, you will have one hour where you’re not allowed to do anything _except_ be a slave.”  
  
“Do…” Hermione’s eyes widened, “Do you mean that for every three hours of studying I’m going to have one hour of sex?”  
  
“You really _are_ a slut, aren’t you?” Harry asked with a chuckle. “I said nothing about sex. No, that’s not what I mean. Sometimes that will be the case, but especially once we get back to Hogwarts it would be difficult to find that kind of privacy all the time, don’t you think?” Hermione nodded in agreement. “No, what I mean is much more simple than you’re thinking. You get three hours of applying yourself, and thinking, and learning. And then you get one hour where you don’t do anything unless you are told. _No_ thinking, _no_ working. Just doing as you’re told.  
  
“Now, I might not have something in mind every night. You might get done with your studying and I’ll be busy with something I can’t put off. If that’s the case that you’ll kneel and wait. For the whole hour if necessary.  
  
“This is why I wanted to know more about why you gravitated towards this lifestyle and how it happened, Hermione. You want this to help you control your stress and obsessive behavior.” Harry paused, his face becoming slightly unsure. “I wrote this rule after listening to your story of how you got to this place, and it seems to me like the kind of thing that will help you achieve exactly what you’re looking for.”  
  
Hermione was stunned for a few seconds. He was right. This rule was almost tailor made to address one of her core concerns, and the fact that she couldn’t seem to manage this on her own was why she had sought relief from their dynamic. It was the same fact that was driving her to immediately object, even though it would greatly reduce her stress without significantly harming her ability to achieve.  
  
“Yes, Master.” Her expression softened into a gracious smile. “Thank you Master.” In a way, having this decision taken away from her felt like a relief now that she had accepted it.  
  
“Do you think these rules will work?” Harry asked her curiously.  
  
“You mean… do I consent to them?” Hermione asked.  
  
“Yes,” Harry said with a nod, “You haven’t set any limits yet.”  
  
Hermione shifted in his arms.  
  
“Can I, Master?” she asked him uncomfortably.  
  
“That’s not how limits work,” Harry told her with a frown. “I don’t _get_ to have input on your limits. That’s why they’re a limit.”  
  
“Then…” Hermione frowned as well. “Then I don’t want to set a limit, I want to… let you know about a preference, Master.”  
  
“Er…” Harry looked at her confused, “Alright then.”  
  
“I don’t handle pain that well,” Hermione said. “I mean… I’ve had fantasies about you choking me, or slapping me, or using a flogger, but my preference would be for the _more_ painful activities to be reserved for punishments.”  
  
“What do you mean by more painful activities?”  
  
“I guess…” Hermione thought for a moment. “I guess I mean anything that would leave a bruise.”  
  
“I see,” Harry responded, searching her face. “What about the mental aspects? Punishments reinforce behavior,” Harry observed. “How comfortable are you with me altering your behavior like that?”  
  
“You mean, changing me?” she asked.  
  
“That’s part of what punishments do,” Harry explained to her. “They teach. They create little seeds in your mind that make you go, ‘no wait, I don’t want to do that actually’ the next time you think about doing it. The way Michael explained it, over a long enough period of time, that kind of conditioning can actually change the way that you think.”  
  
“I’d read something about that,” Hermione observed.  
  
“So then, how comfortable are you with that?”  
  
Hermione thought for several moments.  
  
“Truthfully, it’s both terrifying and exciting. I like the person that I am—”  
  
“I do too,” Harry interjected, causing her to smile.  
  
“Thank you, Master. Having you… train me, change how I think… a part of that is terrifying because I have no idea what I might change into. But another part of it is exciting, because as much as I love being yours to the very core of my soul… I’ve only really been living a life like that for the last week or so.” She reached up a hand and placed it on Harry’s arm. “It’s exciting to think about this kind of life feeling… normal. Feeling like the kind of normal that I’ve been living until now. And for that to happen I would definitely have to change the way that I think.” She paused. “Or rather, _you_ would have to change the way that I think.”  
  
“That makes sense,” Harry agreed.  
  
“I think…” Hermione glanced to the side, internally debating, “I want you to train me. To change me. However you like. And if it starts to be something that I don’t want, I can talk about it then. As it is, I don’t really have a good way to answer, so ‘cautiously forward’ seems like the best route.”  
  
Harry nodding, pulling her in for a hug.  
  
 _I hope I never get used to how wonderful her body feels against mine._  
  
Harry pulled back and gently shifted Hermione off his lap.  
  
“I’m sure the last week was a whole lot of things you’re not used to, but no version of Hermione would ever fail at her studies.” Harry stood, a confidence in his body language that was honestly quite breathtaking to Hermione. “If you’re mine, then everything you do is a reflection of me, so I’m going to make sure you maintain that same standard of coursework.” Harry motioned towards the chair he had been sitting in at the desk. “Sit, pet.”  
  
Hermione got into the chair promptly, her excitement building quickly.  
  
“You,” Harry started, leaning in close to her face, “are going to spend the next three hours studying at this desk. And then?” Harry leaned in further and whispered in her ear. “Rule Six.”  
  
###  
  
“How do you think they’re doing?” Elizabeth asked as she was finishing with the dishes. The question came out conversationally, but it was clear to Michael that she was concerned by her inflection and body language. He had spent decades becoming familiar with her body language, now that he thought about it. At times, she wasn’t allowed to speak with words, and he had learned to be very good at reading her non-verbal cues.  
  
“They’re managing, I’m sure,” Michael told her. “Harry and Hermione are both mature for their age, and they both have a pretty good idea of what they want. Harry learned quite a bit last week.” Michael walked over and wrapped his arms around his wife from behind, pulling her close. “What’s bothering you, pet?”  
  
“It’s just…” She let out a long sigh. “Did we do the right thing?”  
  
“With Hermione, you mean?”  
  
“With both of them.”  
  
Michael sighed, avoiding his instinct to make a joke as he understood she was expressing a serious concern.  
  
“I honestly don’t know, pet,” he said softly. “Harry didn’t get as much of a choice as I would have liked. Sure, we didn’t push him really, and we made sure that he had the chance to say ‘no’ at every point, but… from what I’ve heard about Harry from Hermione, and what I’ve seen the last week… I worry that maybe he didn’t know how to say no to an adult when he got here.” Michael released his arms from Elizabeth and she turned around to face him. “You know I was already uncomfortable with this,” Michael paused, “I know you were too, Liz.”  
  
Elizabeth’s eyes softened at hearing her name.   
  
“Hermione didn’t give us much time to make a decision,” she said.  
  
“No,” Michael agreed, “I suppose she didn’t.” Michael thought for a few moments. “Hermione forced our hand a bit. I was terrified that if we didn’t do something she would act on her own urges eventually in an unhealthy way. But…” Michael frowned, “I still would have preferred to not be so involved in my daughter’s teenage sex life.”   
  
“Michael, teenagers have sex with each other… we both knew that was probably going to happen eventually with Hermione off at her school, away from her parents for ten months a year.”  
  
“I know, Liz.” Michael was quiet for a few seconds before letting out a chuckle. “Harry is pretty lucky.”  
  
“To have Hermione?” Elizabeth asked curiously.  
  
“Well, that too,” Michael agreed, “but I was actually thinking that he is lucky he’s such a good kid. I don’t know if I could have spent a whole week training a teenage boy on how to, uh, _please_ Hermione if he’d been a little shit.”  
  
Elizabeth gawked for a few seconds before letting out a clipped laugh.  
  
“Michael, you know luck had nothing to do with it,” she told him. “He was the one Hermione chose. You know that she wouldn’t choose a bad one. Not bad like that.”  
  
“No, you’re right,” Michael said with a grin. “In the end… I guess it’s ultimately up to them to make it work.”  
  
“As it should be,” Elizabeth agreed with a nod.  
  
Another silence passed and Michael’s eyes widened as he suddenly looked around the room.  
  
“The house is empty,” Michael said, sounding bewildered.  
  
“Yes… since yesterday.”  
  
“No, _pet_ ,” Michael said, the emphasis straightening Elizabeth’s spine automatically. “The _house_ is _empty_.”  
  
“Oh,” Elizabeth responded softly, “Of course, Sir.”  
  
###  
  
Bertha Jorkins was not described by very many people as intelligent. She didn’t always keep her wits about her, and was notoriously forgetful and aloof, but despite that, she was quite observant. It’s part of what made her so nosy in fact. She couldn’t just leave something alone once she noticed it, and she noticed quite a lot.  
  
So it wasn’t too surprising to Peter that only seconds after the witch happened to walk into the same inn while traveling Albania that he was at, she look at him and recognized his face. The only thing that didn’t send Peter immediately into the panic he was all too familiar with these days was that her need to know would make her walk over and question him instead of immediately contacting the Ministry like many other officials would have done.  
  
“Peter Pettigrew?” she asked, walking up to him. She looked at him with a mix of self-importance and curiosity. “What are you doing here? Or anywhere. Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”  
  
“I—I was afraid for my l-life!” Peter declared, thinking quickly. His master was waiting in the forest for him to bring back supplies. The inn was too crowded and public for him to attempt to overpower her, but perhaps if he could convince her to follow him… “Sirius went mad!” he said, deciding to lean on the same lie he’d thought up during his time as a rat. “Once I’d heard he’d escaped, I knew Britain wasn’t safe for me.” Peter leaned in, as if about to share a great secret. It had the desired effect, as Bertha leaned in as well. “He followed me here,” Peter told her. “Murdering scoundrel tried to finish the job, but I knocked him out. I was in town to owl the Ministry, but since I have an official of the Ministry here right now, I could just take you to him.”  
  
Nearly any other witch or wizard in this situation would have had some important questions. Where were you the last 13 years? Why were you afraid for your life while Sirius was still in Azkaban? How did Sirius find you? But not Bertha. Not poor, simple Bertha.  
  
She hadn’t always been this way. In Hogwarts many of her teachers would have described her as rather sharp, and she’d advanced in the Ministry early on through her effectiveness at her position. But a fateful encounter long ago had left her mind half-broken, and though he didn’t know it, Peter was about to benefit from that.  
  
Bertha had flashes of what it would be like to be the one to bring in Sirius, while on _holiday_ no less, run through her head, and the sensible questions others might have asked deserted her.  
  
“Take me to him,” she declared importantly. “You’ve done an excellent thing here Peter. I’ll make sure to pass on a good word for you at the Ministry.”  
  
Peter nodded agreeably and stood up to leave.   
  
The barkeep, who had noticed the rather strange looking woman walk in wearing some funny clothes, watched once more as she left almost immediately with the shifty looking man who had just picked up some food and drink to go. He blanched at the thought that the odd pair might be engaging in some ‘activities’ together, and tried to put it out of his mind.  
  
It was fitting in a way. The last person to see Bertha Jorkins alive as she walked out the door and into the night tried to forget about her, a talent that seemed to come to her naturally.  
  
###  
  
Hermione’s brows were furrowed as she looked between three different tomes she had spread out. What she was looking for wasn’t strictly part of the assignment, but the topic didn’t make much sense to her without this piece. Most of her ‘extra’ work was of that nature. She didn’t do extra work for its own sake. She didn’t like _work_ , she liked _understanding_. She liked _knowing_.  
  
When she went beyond the required reading, it was usually because she needed to in order to learn it to her own satisfaction. After three years of assignments, Hermione was beginning to wonder if the assignments were secretly designed that way on purpose, so that a lazy study could get by, but only the students who truly _wanted_ to learn would actually gain the knowledge itself.  
  
“Time’s up,” Harry’s voice called out from the door. The voice startled Hermione a bit, but then she realized what he’d said.  
  
“One minute, I’m almost finished,” she said, scanning the pages.  
  
The sound of approaching footsteps grabbed her attention, and when she turned Harry was standing next to her looking displeased. She watched, perplexed, as he reached towards her head as if he was going pet her. But as his hand trailed through her bushy hair, his fingers closed, and he gently, but firmly, pulled her head back by the mane.  
  
“Rule six,” Harry said slowly, “was three hours of studying. Not three hours and one minute. What you want from me, what you’ve asked me to do, is to own you completely. That’s why I wanted to make _absolutely sure_ that you agreed to the rules before. But you agreed to them fully, and you asked me to train you and discipline you. To change you. We’ll start now.”  
  
Harry slowly pulled upward, her hair still in his fingers.  
  
“Stand up, slut.”  
  
Hermione shot to her feet, her books entirely forgotten. Never in her life had Hermione gone from feeling normal to feeling aroused so quickly. What had her father _done_ during that week to give Harry _this_ kind of confidence and resolve? She attempted to drop her head and look down, which was her natural reaction to be chided by an authority figure, but Harry held her head back still so that her eyes were facing him.  
  
He didn’t look angry, or even disappointed. He looked… determined.  
  
 _Oh Merlin, that’s the face he gets when he’s about to go off and do something courageous._  
  
Nothing had ever made Hermione feel so small and powerless as being looked at by Harry with that expression.  
  
“How much time are you _allowed_ to study in one sitting, slut?” Harry asked evenly.  
  
“Three hours, Master,” she replied breathlessly. She could feel the heat and moistness starting to pool in her center. _Oh please… let him be about to fuck me._  
  
“Not three hours and one minute?” Harry asked her, using a voice that would be patronizing in some situations, but felt delightfully in control now.  
  
“No, Master.”  
  
Harry’s eyes darted back and forth between her own for several seconds, before his free hand came up and gave her a slap across the face. It wasn’t that hard, it barely even stung, but it was surprising. And it was exactly the kind of thing she had fantasized about.  
  
She was sure he could see the appreciation in her face, but her mind had quickly calibrated to the situation, to her role as the slave, and she knew what she needed to say next.  
  
“Thank you, Master. Please punish me as you see fit.”  
  
“Punish you?” Harry asked, sounding amused. “No, slut. I’m going to _use_ you.”  
  
He started walking towards the bed, and Hermione realized too late that he was still holding her hair. She stumbled, but kept herself from falling, and a few steps later when they got to the bed Harry tossed her onto it.  
  
“Position One.”  
  
Wrong. Everything felt wrong. Hermione quickly got herself into the correct position, though it meant she couldn’t see his face any more. She could hear him though, and it seemed like he bent down and inspected her exposed and spread cunt.  
  
“If you were any more wet, you’d be ruining the sheets,” Harry commented. Hermione’s face flared in embarrassment. “Did you enjoy that?”  
  
“Yes, Master,” she answered with a groan.  
  
“Being slapped?”  
  
“Yes, Master.”  
  
“Having your hair pulled?”  
  
“Yes, Master!”  
  
“Being put in your place?”  
  
“Yes, Master!”  
  
“Being treated like a slave?”  
  
“Yes, Master!”  
  
His words were only egging on her need, but the collar made her hold the position, unable to do anything about it.  
  
“Good girl.”  
  
She heard Harry step away and grab something, and then her heart practically sang as she heard him remove his clothes. When he returned, the plug was thrust in front of her face.  
  
“Get it wet,” he commanded. She opened her mouth and Harry pushed it in, not being entirely gentle about it to her surprise and satisfaction. After a few seconds he yanked it out of her mouth, and she drew a gasping breath. She got about three lung fulls before she felt the plug being pressed against her hole.  
  
 _Where was this last night!?_ That was all she could think before Harry pushed the plug in, drawing a yelp from her throat.  
  
“Don’t forget to ask permission,” Harry said.  
  
 _Permission? For wh—_  
  
“Ahhh!” Hermione half shouted and half moaned as Harry pushed his cock inside her in a single thrust. She felt like she could almost cum right there.  
  
 _Permission to cum… he meant permission to cum…_  
  
Harry reached up and put one of his hands around her throat, not really applying pressure, more using it as a way to keep some leverage, and began to thrust in and out.  
  
“This is what you wanted slut,” Harry told her, grunting as he kept a steady pace. “Not to have sex… To be fucked. To be used. To be a glorified sex toy.”  
  
“Yesss MASTer!” Hermione agreed deliriously. Her eyes widened as she felt his hand start to tighten around her throat ever so slightly.  
  
“To be degraded.” The pressure was enough to be distracting. “To be humiliated.” Now her breaths were coming in a little more difficult. “To be owned.”  
  
“Yes… Master…” Hermione agreed in a raspy, strained voice. Harry buried himself and leaned forward so that she could see his face. He stared directly into her eyes with an intensity that made it difficult for Hermione to hold back her orgasm.  
  
“Are you close?”  
  
“Yes… Master…”  
  
“You better not fucking cum until I tell you to,” Harry warned her. He started thrusting again, holding her throat at this point where she could only just breathe. Hermione put all of her focus into holding back the approaching wave, but to her dismay she didn’t think she’d be able to hold on much longer. Just as she was about to beg, truly and honestly beg, to be allowed to orgasm, she felt his movements start to get more jerky.  
  
“Please…” was all she could get out.  
  
“Cum on my cock, you whore.”  
  
Hermione didn’t just cum on demand, she lost all control over her body and briefly blacked out. Surely the hand around her throat contributed to that, but the experience was nearly as intense as the edging session she’d had on her first day with her mother. Her body had fallen out of position, and there was that wrongness in the back of her mind, but the pleasure was too intense for her to care.  
  
As the waves crashed over her, she felt Harry jerk, and seize. When she finally came back to her senses and was able to pull her body back into position, Harry was laying on top of her breathing heavily.  
  
“T-Thank you… M-Master-r,” she said, a goofy grin on her face, her body still twitching occasionally.  
  
Harry pushed himself up and pulled out slowly, leaving Hermione feeling empty. Incomplete, almost.  
  
“Open your mouth,” Harry instructed. She did so without even thinking.  
  
She felt his fingers run along her cunt before he brought them up and pushed them between her waiting lips. They were slimy, and tasted…  
  
 _He’s… he’s feeding me his cum… his cum that’s dripping out of my… my used cunt…_  
  
After swallowing, Harry reached down to scoop up some more, and Hermione smiled before opening her mouth again, with only one thought left on her mind.  
  
 _This slave is the property of Harry Potter._  
  
“I love you, slut,” Harry said, his voice full of affection. Hermione felt tears welling in her eyes. She never would have imagined hearing those words for the first time in a situation like this, but it was perfect.  
  
“I love you too, Master.”  
  
###  
  
 **Author’s Note:** First of all, apologies again for the gap in chapters. Going forward, this story will be updated on the first Saturday of every month. My new update schedule is explained here:  
  
<https://www.patreon.com/posts/update-schedule-24008341>  
  
Updates will be on Saturdays, with each story getting one chapter per month.  
  
I’ll be posting little updates on my Patreon and using it as something like a blog, so even if you don’t want to or simply can’t sign up for one of the subscriptions, you can still follow it for free and keep up to date on what’s going on.  
  
Another good place to keep up on things is on my Discord server, where I have been hanging out again since the beginning of the year. You can join it here:  
  
<https://discord.gg/TQ25x5u>  
  
To all of those who are reading again after months of waiting, I love you. My most sincere appreciation goes out to you for finding something of value in the things that I write.  
  
 **Special Thanks:** A special thanks to Valter and MatrimKnotai over at Patreon who very generously signed up to support my work before I’d even officially returned with a new chapter.


	12. Together On Our Own

Chapter 12  
Together On Our Own  
  
###  
  
Hermione moved through the apartment with purpose, glancing at everything in the room for the fourth time. Her parents would be visiting today, and she was finding herself a bit manic at the prospect of hosting them for a meal. It felt very different. This was like… it felt like she and Harry were living their own life together, and her parents were visiting to perform an inspection. In a way, she supposed, that was what was happening, though it wasn’t quite that cut and dry.  
  
She felt the air move across her body as she went through the rooms, tidying up little spots here and there. She hadn’t worn clothes in two days now, and it was starting to feel very normal, being naked all the time. It certainly made it easier for Harry to use her body, and she smiled fondly as she thought about just how comfortable he had become doing that.  
  
Last night she’d been putting something away in the cupboard when she’d suddenly felt his hands on her hips, and less than a second later had felt him push inside her in a single, powerful thrust. She’d thrown her head back in surprise, but had parted her legs slightly to give him more access.  
  
Their relationship was so strange, and yet so… perfect. She knew it would be a nightmare for some people, to live like she was living, but it was everything she had been dreaming about since second year. Her mind felt more in control, and more calm, and she felt both protected and owned. Like she didn’t have to worry about anything except pleasing Harry. He would take care of the world, she just needed to take care of him.  
  
She sighed as the thought calmed her manic mood slightly. The apartment was just fine… her parents wouldn’t be inspecting every inch of it with a magnifying glass. Her Master hadn’t instructed her to make everything spotless, and such a task would be nearly impossible without magic anyway. He had just told her to make sure everything was tidy, and even by her standards, she had done that. Well, except for the floors, which she had cleaned thoroughly at Harry’s behest.  
  
Allowing herself to relax a bit, she closed her eyes and breathed in the wonderful smells coming from the kitchen. She had tried to do the cooking as well, but Master had insisted that he do it. It was something he enjoyed doing, and something he had practice at, so he had been quite firm on the subject.  
  
Walking into the kitchen, Hermione watched Harry move at the stove and counter for several seconds. There was such focus and purpose on his face, and seeing that kind of intense focus from him made her heart flutter. It was a reminder of just how deep into herself his eyes seemed to look sometimes. Collecting herself from her leering, she looked around the kitchen for a few moments. She didn’t want to get in his way.  
  
After a few seconds considering options, she got on her knees next to the door and spread her legs apart, looking down. She knew that he loved seeing her body, and seeing the mark above her cunt, and waiting like this would be something that brought him a smile when he finally looked over at her. She wanted to make him smile… it made her warm inside in a way that few things ever had.  
  
Looking down at the floor was the part that she disliked the most, because she wanted to watch his face, just take in his focus with her eyes. But it was important to her that she showed the proper deference. It had been difficult at first for Harry to understand the depths to which she wanted to submit, and she wanted to constantly remind him with little things how it made her happy to feel subordinate to him in this way.  
  
Kneeling in this position had started to elicit an immediate reaction, both physically and mentally from her. When she would kneel with her legs open, looking down, it was starting to focus her mind on her submission. On the fact that Harry owned her, controlled her, and cared for her. It was the same feelings she was starting to have now.  
  
She knelt there for a time, at least ten minutes, and as time passed she knew that her wetness was rolling down her leg onto the floor. It annoyed her in a way… she’d put so much effort into cleaning these floors this morning.  
  
“Finished with your task?” Harry’s voice called out, startling her even though she had known it would be coming eventually.  
  
“Yes, Master,” she said, still looking down.  
  
“Good girl,” Harry said, walking over and patting her head a few times. The pride and satisfaction that washed through her at the contact was comforting, but still somewhat surprising. “I see that you’ve made a mess on your floor. Lick it up, then go get dressed for your parents.”  
  
“Lick it up, Master?” Hermione confirmed, looking up at him for the first time. He smirked.  
  
“My instruction was to make the floor clean enough to eat off of, right slut?” Harry paused and waited for Hermione to nod. “Consider this motivation to follow orders exactly.”  
  
Hermione’s face flushed, and annoyingly, she felt herself drip onto the floor even more at his words.  
  
“Yes, Master,” she said, turning around and bringing her face to the small puddle that had been collecting beneath her. With only a few licks, the wetness was gone, and Hermione stood to leave and get dressed.  
  
###  
  
Michael watched as Elizabeth moved through the house a bit frantically, amusement in his eyes.   
  
“Pet,” he called out as he watched her check her purse for a third time. “We’re just going for dinner. We’re not even making dinner, it’s not like we need to even bring anything with us.”  
  
“I know, Master,” she replied with annoyed resignation. “It’s Hermione… I can feel some of her nervous energy through the collar, and it’s making me a bit anxious.”  
  
Michael’s eyebrows shot up.  
  
“Really?” He looked at her intently. “Have you felt other things from her before?”  
  
“Not really,” Elizabeth said, her brows furrowing. “I know they must have had sex by now, or at least some play time, and I haven’t felt any of that. Maybe it’s because her nervous energy is focused on us? On me?”  
  
“Maybe,” Michael said, glancing down at the collar thoughtfully. “In truth, you and I know very little about how all of this works still. The impression I got from Harry was that the ‘why’ and ‘how’ behind things like this was beyond him as well, though I’m not sure about our daughter. Perhaps she could give us some insight.”  
  
Elizabeth nodded, still looking a bit distracted, before her face suddenly morphed into a look of slight shock and confusion. After she held that expression for several seconds, Michael prompted her to speak.  
  
“What is it now pet?”  
  
Elizabeth’s eyes focused and look at him, her face becoming much more attentive.  
  
“It… the nerves all disappeared at once, and as it was leaving I felt… it was a deep feeling of serenity and… and submission. Like catching just a few notes from the next song on a record before pausing it.”  
  
“It looks like Harry must have calmed her down then,” Michael said with a smile. “It’s about an hour to get to the Leaky Cauldron, we should get going now.”  
  
“Right,” Elizabeth agreed, walking towards the front door. Her scattered behavior was gone now, and Michael started to ponder just what other sorts of effects the magic in the collar might have on his wife.  
  
###  
  
Hermione heard the knock at the door and practically flew through the room to open it, much to Harry’s amusement. After swinging the door open, she jumped into her mother’s arms, a wide smile on her face.  
  
“I see you’re doing well,” Elizabeth said with a giggle, giving Hermione a brief hug. “Can we come in?”  
  
“Of course!” Hermione exclaimed, jumping back and pulling Elizabeth in behind her. Michael followed them inside, closing the door behind him, and walked over to Harry as the girls scampered off, presumably to have a look around the place and catch up on the last few days.  
  
“You look well,” Michael said, walking up and offering his hand. Harry took it with a smile and gave it a firm shake.  
  
“I have to be honest, Michael. I don’t know that I’ve ever been so happy.”  
  
Michael nodded.  
  
“That’s good to hear,” he said. “I knew that you would be just fine by the time our week was over, Harry. I’ve had every confidence in you.” Harry’s face looked both unsure and pleased, as if it was a pleasant surprise to hear, but that he wasn’t sure if Michael was joking. “Truly, Harry. I let you take my daughter for a whole week, entirely on your own. No teachers, no adults, no headmaster… that should tell you how confident I was in you.”  
  
Harry felt his chest tighten and his eyes water as he realized just how much it meant to hear something like that from a father, even if it wasn’t _his_ father. He hadn’t had a single positive male figure in his life, and Harry had never really felt bad about that. Even with Sirius, while his heart yearned to connect with the man and build a relationship with him now, he’d had so few moments to build any kind of bond so far that it was difficult to conjure that feeling. But hearing the simple and sincere affirmation from Michael made Harry suddenly realize how much he had wanted that from someone in his life.  
  
“Thank you, Michael,” he replied, a bit shakily. “I’ll try not to betray your confidence in me.”  
  
“I’m sure you won’t,” Michael said with a warm smile. “Dinner smells delicious, what did you make?”  
  
“Oh, uh…” Harry looked back at the food that was waiting at the table. “Nothing too fancy. A simple roast and some mash to go with it. I made some asparagus as well, but I’m not as good at making that since my uncle doesn’t like eating vegetables too much. Haven’t had much practice with them.”  
  
“I’m sure it’s delicious, Harry,” Michael assured him. “It’s honestly quite the dinner for a teenager to make for house guests.”  
  
Harry shrugged.  
  
“It’s not really that complicated, just takes time.” Harry walked over and started setting the table. “How long do you think they’ll be?”  
  
“Well,” Michael started, rubbing his chin, “I suppose that depends on how many details Liz wants from Hermione.”  
  
“Details!?” Harry repeated, dropping the fork that was in his hand. “About… er… I mean…”  
  
Michael stared at the expression on Harry’s face before bursting into a hearty laugh.  
  
“Oh, Harry… come on now.” Michael walked over to where Harry was standing now and placed a hand on the teenager’s shoulder. “You spent several days examining Liz’s naked body… I spent an entire week with you on the finer points of different sexual proclivities… you don’t honestly feel embarrassed about us knowing too many details of your sex life with Hermione, do you? It’s not something I’m particularly keen to get details on, but it’s not like I think you two haven’t had sex with each other as many times as possible since coming here.”  
  
Harry stared at the older man, his eyes wide and his jaw slack. Michael continued.  
  
“The two of us spent a week teaching you both how to best enjoy sex, and then stuck the both of you, hormonal teenagers, together and on your own, without any supervision. We knew exactly what we were doing on that front.”  
  
Harry closed his mouth and swallowed, before nodding, an odd feeling of relief and the surreal coming over him.  
  
“It’s just strange,” Harry said after a few moments. “I mean, I’m only just about to turn 14, but I can’t imagine doing that for a kid of my own.”  
  
Michael nodded, his face becoming slightly more serious.  
  
“It’s certainly a unique situation, and Hermione is a unique child. I couldn’t have imagined something like this a few years ago either.” Michael ran his hand through his hair, letting out a deep sigh. “To be honest, there are still parts of this I’m not entirely comfortable with, but what’s done is done, and in the end I think this will help you both.”  
  
Harry nodded and continued setting the table.  
  
###  
  
“And this is our bedroom,” Hermione said, finishing the tour, the exuberant smile still on her face. Elizabeth nodded, a smile of her own adorning her features at her daughter’s obvious happiness, and shut the door behind them.  
  
“Let’s give the boys some time to get everything ready,” she said, turning back to face Hermione. “In the meantime, I want details!”  
  
Hermione was taken aback for a moment, embarrassed at the prospect of recounting things to her mother, but also startled at how much her mother reminded her of Lavender from that statement.  
  
“Oh, um…” Hermione glanced around the room, fidgeting, before walking to the bed and sitting on it. “What, um… what do you want to know?”  
  
“How was it? The first time?” Elizabeth asked excitedly. Hermione cringed for a second, thinking back to the memory, and the smile slowly fell off of Elizabeth’s face. “It’s… things are working out alright with Harry, aren’t they?”  
  
“Oh!” Hermione said, realizing what her mother must be thinking. “Yes, of course, things with Master are going very well.”   
  
Elizabeth smirked at the use of the title, and for a few seconds, Hermione was confused about what Elizabeth was smiling about, until her brain caught up to her mouth, and a blush spread over her face.  
  
“If that’s the case,” Elizabeth said with a note of humor in her voice, “then why did you look so unhappy when I asked about it?”  
  
“The first time was… well, Harry was very sweet,” Hermione said. “A bit, er, too sweet.”  
  
“Oh dear,” Elizabeth said. “I hope it wasn’t too bad.”  
  
“I, um…” Hermione looked away bashfully. “I got through to him the next morning.”  
  
“Oh?” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “And how did you do that?”  
  
“I… I sort of… forced him to pee down my throat.”  
  
“Oh my,” Elizabeth said, laughing lightly. “You always have been stubborn. I imagine he got the picture after that.”  
  
“Yes,” Hermione said, relaxing a bit as the conversation continued. “He gave me this,” she said with obvious cheer, lifting her shirt up and showing Elizabeth the tattoo. Her eyes rose as she saw it.  
  
“Goodness,” Elizabeth breathed, a bit shocked at what she was seeing. The color on the ink shifted as she stared, and Elizabeth quickly deduced that it must be some kind of magical tattoo. “Did it hurt?”  
  
“No,” Hermione said, letting her shirt fall down. “And it can be fully removed with a month-long potion regimen.”  
  
Elizabeth looked back up at her daughter’s face and took in the expression of happiness there.  
  
“I’m glad you’re happy,” she said softly, placing a soft hand on Hermione’s arm. “You’ve had sex since then though, right? And it’s been better?”  
  
“Oh, mother… God, yes,” Hermione replied, her words almost coming out in a moan as she thought about it. “I don’t know what you and dad did to Harry during that week, but he’s… he’s so good at it. Being my Master, I mean.”  
  
“You two are leaning into the Master/slave relationship more then?” Elizabeth asked.  
  
“Yes,” Hermione nodded excitedly. “It makes me feel so comforted and cared for. I love it. I don’t even get to wear clothes without permission, it’s just always there, his ownership. I couldn’t have imagined it would ever be this wonderful.”  
  
Elizabeth looked at her daughter for a few moments, her face softening into a small smile.  
  
“You love him,” she said, more of statement than a question. “Real love.”  
  
“I… yes, I think so,” Hermione said, unable to keep the brilliant joyful expression off her face.  
  
“I’m so happy for you,” Elizabeth said sincerely, pulling Hermione in for a hug. When she pulled away, Elizabeth looked down at Hermione’s chest. “Has he pierced your nipples yet?”  
  
“What!?” Hermione asked startled.  
  
“Oh, I suppose not then,” Elizabeth continued before looking back up at Hermione’s face. “Well, what else has happened? I want to know everything.”  
  
Hermione stared at her mother for a few moments before starting to tell her story.  
  
###  
  
After a while the girls finally left the bedroom, giggling and sharing conspiratorial looks. The scene made Harry instantly uncomfortable, but Michael just smiled and took his seat, motioning for Harry to do the same.  
  
“Did you have fun catch up?” Michael asked his wife as the girls arrived at the table.  
  
“Of course,” Elizabeth said in an exaggerated tone, a hint of humor on her face. “It’s only been a few days, but it was nice to hear that things are going well for our little girl.”  
  
Harry sat and watched silently. Again, just like the first meal he’d had with the Grangers, he felt like something of an outsider. There was so little context for him to put this kind of thing in. He’d never had a parent that was happy to hear about what was happening to him, and he’d never had someone that was happy to see him after only a few days away. His eyes glanced down the table and landed on Hermione. Well… maybe he had, just not a family member.  
  
“So how has it been being able to live on your own, Harry?” Michael asked as they began to serve the meal. “To make decisions for yourself?”  
  
Harry glanced down the table again before answering.  
  
“Well, I mean I haven’t been alone really,” he said. “We’ve been together.”  
  
Michael smiled at this answer, but pressed.  
  
“I understand what you mean, but I meant more what’s it like to be able to live by your own rules? To not have other people deciding how you’ll live your life for a little while.”  
  
Harry pondered this for a moment before smiling.  
  
“It’s… so free. Refreshing. I’m not sure I can really describe it, but it’s wonderful.” Harry looked at Michael seriously. “Thank you Michael…” He turned his head and looked at Elizabeth. “And thank you also, Elizabeth,” Harry said nodding. “I don’t know why, exactly, you two went so far out of your way to help me, to make my life better, but it’s been like a dream.” His smile slowly faded. “I’m… well, I’m not looking forward to going back to the Dursleys again. And I’m not looking forward to being away from slu—Hermione.”  
  
Harry’s face flushed as he realized what he was about to casually call their daughter in front of them. Hermione, for her part, seemed to be imitating a tomato. A few moments of silence passed over the table before Michael let out a soft chuckle.  
  
“Harry, a word of advice: mix up the names and titles you use with Hermione. You don’t want to get in the habit of using one of the dirtier names so often that it slips out at school, or in front of a teacher.”  
  
Harry’s face was filled with horror as he pictured the tongue lashing Professor McGonagall would give him if he called Hermione ‘slut’ in front of her. He shuddered before nodding emphatically in agreement.  
  
“Speaking of school,” Elizabeth said, her hand coming up towards her neck. “Would either of you happen to know how exactly the magic in these collars works?”  
  
“Why do you ask mum?” Hermione said, her own hand coming up to finger the collar on her throat.  
  
“Well, I’ve been able to feel a bit of what you’re feeling sweetheart, and I was curious about what determined when it happened. Or if there’s any way to prevent it from happening.”  
  
Harry stared at the woman for several seconds.  
  
“You… uh… you’ve been feeling what Hermione does?” The look of shock and terror on his face made it plain which ‘feelings’ he was worried she had felt. “What, er, sorts of feelings?”  
  
“Oh, not that,” Elizabeth said with a small laugh. “Earlier today I was feeling nervousness from Hermione, but I think it was because the nervousness was about me, or directed at me. As soon as she started to feel something that wasn’t directed at me, I stopped feeling it.” She gave Harry a wink. “Good job calming her down, Harry.”  
  
Hermione sputtered before deciding the best course of action was to focus on her meal.  
  
“Oh, uh… thanks.” Harry shifted a bit, considering Elizabeth’s original question. “Well, the man at the shop mentioned that they were linked. He called them ‘Harem Collars’ I think. He said they were linked with a charm… what was it again?” Harry turned and looked at Michael.  
  
“Pro-something,” Michael said. “All the made up words for magic things are so hard to keep track of.”  
  
“Protein?” Harry suggested.  
  
“That sounds… close,” Michael hesitantly agreed.  
  
“A Protein Charm?” Hermione asked, frowning. “I’ve never heard of that one before. Bit of an odd name for a charm, don’t you think?”  
  
“They’re all kind of odd names, Hermione,” Harry retorted. “Anyway, I’m not sure if that was it. We could go to the shop tomorrow and ask, I guess.”  
  
“I’d appreciate it,” Elizabeth said. “Michael and I don’t know the first thing about how magic works, and knowing a bit about how those things might affect us would be… comforting.”  
  
“You still have the booklet he gave us, right?” Harry asked Michael.  
  
“I do,” Michael said. “But it didn’t mention something like this. Maybe it’s because they are mother and daughter? The magic does something funny?”  
  
“Maybe,” Hermione agreed cautiously, now fully in her thinking mode. “Once we find out what charm links them, I could look it up. I only have a year of Arithmancy, but it should help a bit with figuring out how all the charms and enchantments are connected to each other.”  
  
“Even if you can though,” Harry replied, “what if the mother and daughter part is affecting it? That probably wouldn’t be written in the books about the spells.”  
  
“You’d be surprised what’s written in books,” Hermione retorted, sounding almost offended at the notion that something so important would be undocumented. Even with Hermione being his willing slave, he knew better than to pick this particular fight.  
  
“Well then we’ll look into it,” he said cautiously, worried about promising something they may not be able to deliver.  
  
“So,” Michael said, moving the conversation along, “how is the apartment coming along? Will it be ready as a sort of safe house by the end of the week?”  
  
The dinner and conversation continued as the night went on, and by the end of it Harry felt at ease once more. His anxiety about being examined and found wanting had proved baseless. Similarly, Michael and Elizabeth ended the night more confident that they had made the right decision. Perhaps it wasn’t the right decision from a moral perspective, but it appeared it was going to do the things they had hoped: make their daughter happy, and keep her safe.  
  
###  
  
Hermione and Harry spent the remainder of their week exploring each other and their dynamic. Looking back on it later, they would say they spent it truly falling in love, but that’s the kind of perspective that only time brings.  
  
They’d gone to the shop the next day and found out the name of the spell was the Protean Charm, which Hermione also hadn’t heard of. They’d gone straight to Flourish and Blott’s, picking up a few volumes that would help Hermione investigate the collars and their magic. Though by the end of the week she hadn’t found any answers, she was slowly making progress at understanding how they were constructed, and was hopeful that she’d be able to give her mother an answer before the summer ended.  
  
All too soon though it was time for Hermione to return home, and Harry to return to the Dursleys. Harry stood in the front room, holding Hermione in his arms as Michael and Elizabeth stood to the side, giving the teenage couple some space to say their goodbyes.   
  
“I’m going to miss you Master,” Hermione whispered, tears rolling down her face. “I’m… I’m going to feel so lost, being alone.”  
  
“I know,” Harry said, the pain of the parting obvious in his voice. “I think your dad is probably right though, Hermione. When has Dumbledore ever done something on purpose to hurt me? There has to be a reason that I’m at the Dursleys every summer, and when we get back to school I’ll ask him what it is. But… you were the one who convinced me that it wasn’t a good idea to mess with magic we don’t understand. That I had to go back.”   
  
He ran his fingers through her hair in a repeated, petting motion that he knew by this point Hermione found soothing.  
  
“That doesn’t make it easier,” Hermione replied shakily.  
  
“We have a way to communicate now though,” Harry offered. “It’s not much… but it’s better than nothing.”  
  
Hermione buried her face into his shoulder, getting his shirt wet with tears.  
  
“Promise that you’ll give me orders? That you’ll… that I’ll still be yours? I don’t want to go back to being unowned, Master. I don’t want to be abandoned.”  
  
“I promise, pet,” he said softly. “With your collar, we’ll never be completely apart.” Harry was beginning to realize the depth of impact his ownership of her was having on Hermione emotionally, and it was making him feel even more protective and responsible for her. It was a strange feeling. For most of his life he hadn’t even been allowed to be responsible for himself, let alone someone else. Now he had someone whose happiness had been wrapped up in his decisions, and the responsibility of that was something he was still coming to terms with.  
  
They held each other for a few more moments before Michael cleared his throat. It was time to leave. Harry pulled back and looked into Hermione’s eyes before leaning in and giving her a final kiss goodbye. As he pulled away his eyes rested on the collar around her throat. They might be on their own at times, but they would always be together.  
  
###  
  
 **Author’s Note:** Special thanks to Cormag and Therapist Maou at my Patreon page, who have generously supported at the “Accio Ballgag” level or above.  
  
You can join me in my Discord server if you want to chat.  
  
<https://discord.gg/TQ25x5u>  
  
Until next month, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was shorter than normal, but it was necessary.  
  
You can find my Patreon page here: <https://www.patreon.com/neptune20>  
  
The next chapter of For Every Day After should be up there for Patrons within about a day.


End file.
